Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yu’s often heard it said about him that he’s an extraordinarily patient person. It’s not exactly true, but it’s not enough to waste his breath disagreeing, which is really the root of the problem. He so rarely finds it in him to spend enough energy on most things to bother with being impatient, let alone intolerant of any process of time.

It’s only in the rare instances something stirs him he realizes it’s not true at all, not even close.

December comes, and lots of things happen after that. He leaves the first week of that month feeling shaken like a ragdoll, concussed and nauseous, head swirling with half-baked images. Cards hidden up sleeves, cheap beer—his first ever—on his lips, barefoot on the back lawn with each of his sister’s hands in one of theirs, knees touching underneath the table, breath on the shell of his ear, fingers—

The walls of a hospital closing in on a man losing control, a noose illuminated in four walls of red-and-black violence. An illusion shattered in a burst of gunsmoke and broken glass. The bearer of fog and a body limp in his arms.

It’s past midnight when he reaches the gas station, a single light still on in the window along an otherwise dark street. It’s the glow of the Velvet Room door he’s after, though, and if the late hour surprises anyone there, they don’t stir. It’s only Margaret’s eyes that change at all, like she knows what he’s about to say before he beckons her. Sure enough, he says her name, and she’s already rising to her feet, book dog-eared underneath her arm.

They occupy the other side of the limousine when they speak. It’s just a formality. He’s never been too concerned about the particulars, but he’s pretty certain Igor could read his thoughts if he really wanted. Either way, it’s not too much of a comfort when he’s both fully aware he’s about to say something insane, and absolutely sure there’s no way in hell he can stop himself from asking it.

He couldn’t even wait until tomorrow. How could he sleep?

Margaret sits down on the velvet seats once more, but Yu remains standing, not sure what to do with his hands but dig the nails into his palms some more. He knows his face doesn’t betray him, but it’s a forgone conclusion here.

“Is there a way to prevent this?” He thought about the wording all the way here, but even saying it, he's still not sure it’ll get the outcome he’s looking for.

“I thought that’s what you were doing,” Margaret says, evenly. There’s a small, nearly imperceptible crease in between her eyes. There’s change, everywhere, all around him, and only God knows how long he’s been willfully blind to it.

“Is there a way to prevent him?” He doesn’t want to say it. He can’t bring himself to. He hopes the acid in it is enough.

“Is there a way to prevent a tiger from devouring its prey?” Igor asks in that drawl of his, just to prove he’s still listening.

Yu doesn’t have the energy for this, either. He doesn’t even look back. “Is there?”

He hates how it sounds in his own ears. Desperate. Just a little on the edge of crazed.

In reply, Margaret just takes a hand in hers and closes her eyes.

There are conditions, of course. But not many. Nothing that would prevent the both of them independently arriving to their power, not that Yu thinks he could stop that if he wanted. Nothing that would break time, but he doesn’t entirely know what that means. But he has to believe in the thing that sent him stumbling back to the Velvet Room in the first place: that fate, this fate at least, isn’t an inevitability. If that’s the truth, then the rules shouldn’t matter. Or he’ll find out when he gets there.

He wakes up on his futon, early morning light from the dusty blinds of Dojima’s spare window dancing sunbeams onto the equally dusty table and illuminating the dormant television screen in stripes. Half of his belongings are unpacked, his clothes and a haphazard array of school supplies all splayed out with half-emptied boxes still taking up a corner under the cheap shelving unit. When he squints, he can just make out where he’s put his last ‘x’ on the wall. April 12th.

Yu tears the pillow out from behind his head and covers his eyes, pressing his fists into the sockets through it. It’s too late. Too late for the first, to avoid the sin entirely, too late…

He slides the pillow down just a little, taking a deep breath. It might not be too late for the second.

He moves through school unnerved by the photo accuracy of every conversation, the choreography of bodies moving through the hallways, the glints in his new (old) friends’ eyes, and he’s playing at every action like an actor with half-remembered lines. Beneath it all is an electrical current, calculating the degree of change from every movement and how soon it can carry him to the lobby of Junes, alone.

The sun’s setting by the time he finds him, relief flooding through him at the sight of Tohru Adachi in his ill-fitting suit and blank expression leaning against the bike racks outside the store. It takes him longer to look up at his approach than Yu has ever been accustomed to, and it makes him feel off-center until his shadow passes over him and he watches Adachi’s eyes contort into that practiced doe-eyed ignorance, sharpening in a blink. This he knows.

“Can I help you?” Adachi asks, just on the flat side of his usual facade. Not that anyone but him would notice. “I’m actually on break right now, so…”

“Yu Narukami.” Yu cuts him off by extending his hand, searching his face for a single shred of recognition, of awareness, and finds none. There’s just bewilderment, and a barely-there sharp upturn of his shoulders before they fall into that practiced slouch again. Yu clears his throat, says, “I’m Dojima-san’s nephew. I heard you’re his partner?”

Adachi’s wrist is limp and his hand is clammy, leaving behind an unpleasant sheen of sweat in his palm, but it’s the first contact they’ve had since… God, Yu doesn’t even want to think about it anymore. He’s reluctant to drop it, but he takes care not to let it show, especially with Adachi so hasty to break the connection.

“Uh, yeah.” Adachi twitches like he’s about to wipe his hands on his pants before thinking the better of it, plastering that fake smile even wider across his teeth. “Come to think of it, he did say you’d be in town. Did he tell you to introduce yourself or something? Sorry, kid, he’s so formal! We would have met sooner or later carrying him home after the bar… er…”

“I won’t tell him you told me that,” Yu interrupts, because he’s heard this schtick what feels like a thousand times, and he’s sick of it. “Look, I need to talk to you. Alone, preferably.”

If there’s genuine suspicion or shock there, it’s buried under such an elaborate, obtuse masquerade that his wide eyes and parted lips just look comical, as if there was anything about this situation worth laughing about. “What do you mean?”

“I‘ll explain in a minute,” Yu replies, fighting the part of him that’s furiously insisting that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, that this will go south faster than he can blink, that he has to have a real plan and this isn’t one. He steels his eyes and shoulders, forcing himself to look at Adachi’s face, devoid of the knowledge and intimacy they’d built that he misses like a phantom finger, even if it was maybe never his to begin with. The mask is so empty without it. “Would you mind taking me to the station?”

He mutters some bullshit about procedures and being on the clock and they’re going to ask questions, you know, but it doesn’t matter, because Yu has always been right about one, inexplicable thing. There’s something about him, something he doesn’t even understand himself, that makes Adachi want to listen. Even now, apparently, because it takes very little convincing to get Adachi to buckle, even though he knows well enough the signs of annoyance written across his brow.

It’s not the best plan he's ever had. In fact, it might be one of the worst, but he has to at least try it, and it might as well be first. He’s brought to a familiar place, the interrogation room he’s learned doubles as Adachi’s informal office, and watches with a lump in his throat as Adachi locks the door behind them.

He starts from what he knows, and studies the contours of Adachi’s face as they go from willfully ignorant, to genuine confusion, to a brief flash of horror, to a final crack of the mask it took Yu months and months to break the first time only to now watch it shatter across the floor. His thin lips snarl into a cold smirk that matches the dark, lightless pits of his eyes, and when he laughs, it’s not the unhinged, manic laughter of the shadow world, but rather a cruel facsimile of the passion it took to produce the first time, hollow and emotionless.

Yu doesn’t feel anything when cold metal presses against his temple, nor when Adachi’s foot finds the small of his back. His only thought before the barrel’s slammed down across his skull is simple, mechanical.

Well. At least one thing doesn’t work.

He doesn’t know if he’ll wake up after that, but he does, and the only emotion he can muster is mild surprise. Distant relief, maybe, but not in the way skirting death should pound at his heart. Instead, he just blinks in a new day, sighs at the blank white walls of his room, and tries to come up with something better.

There are a few more April 12ths that go about as well as the first, but at least he doesn’t end up with cold metal to the skull again. Yet. Chased out of the police station, cursed out by Dojima, fucking up the timeline and having to restart by not saying the right thing to Yosuke or Chie at the right time, come up as the suspect himself once or twice, yes—but he never makes that mistake. Mayumi Yamano can’t be saved, and he’s already long wasted that breath on Igor begging for one week more to no avail. Every time, though, Saki Konishi is still on the table. It’s just a few days, but it’s on the table.

Twenty versions of that pass in a blur of time that is neither as slow nor as fast as the weeks have always felt, a temporal experience he has no words for other than a sense of otherness that remains alien from his own linear perception. Twenty loops, twenty forced ‘hellos’ through his lips to sound like the very first time, twenty impersonal handshakes with Detective Tohru Adachi, twenty anxious nights spent in front of a static TV, and the part of him that’s felt trapped in April 2011 for months before this already feels like the only part of him that’s ever existed.

He watches Saki Konishi die seventeen times. He can’t bring himself to stick around for the other three. He gets Tohru Adachi to his dinner table, the only starting point he knows how to approach with any sort of confidence or sound strategy, about ten. If he counts the ones not concocted under ridiculous false pretense, it’s only three.

Beyond the first and by far the most severe fracture, he catches a glimpse of the gaps between his mask once.

Well, if he’s being generous with himself, which a pointed lack of results has made him disinclined to do, he’s seen micro-fractures. If he can call them that. The first time it happens, it’s not even intentional. The fact it’s an honest mistake might be worse, but he can’t say for sure he wasn’t looking to dig into something in the way his words so often are designed to do. It’s around the eleventh or twelfth, in the middling ones where he plays it close to the teeth, and he’s sweet-talked Dojima into yet another tour of the station right when he knows Adachi will be arriving in a hurry, five minutes late on the dot as usual.

The strange thing about the loops, he’s starting to realize, is that they aren’t identical even if his actions don’t change. According to Margaret, that’s not how time works. The structure of events that surround him and the forces that catalyze them won’t alter until Yu affects it, but small details shift here and there. What tie Adachi is wearing, the order Dojima categorizes the case files in under his arm, the few red lights in town they hit on the way there, things like that. Insignificant aberrations of change over time, according to Igor.

It’s only after the brief glimmer of hope it brings is crushed he learns that, though. When he and his uncle arrive at the station on Friday to find Adachi already there, leaning on the shared rusted coffee maker and stifling a yawn with one hand, Yu feels something dangerous and anticipatory catch in his throat. He barely remembers to greet him as Adachi waves a lazy hand, raising his eyebrows in exaggerated pleasantry.

“Morning, Dojima!” Adachi chimes, pulling down two mismatched mugs from the cabinet above that Yu guesses was last painted sometime in the seventies. “Oh, and Yu, was it? Nice to see you again!”

Looking into the corners of his eyes for that telltale hardness feels like grasping at straws, but he does it anyway, chasing the corners of his faint wrinkles until they disappear into his uneven hairline. He’s careful to watch the timing of his reply, offering a quick, “You, too.”

He’s heard this particular morning lecture of Dojima’s so many times he could recite it from memory complete with hand gestures if pressed, and it’s no more interesting hearing about Adachi’s intentional misfiling of busywork the tenth time around, so Yu tunes it out. Instead, he watches the bones of Adachi’s wrist strain against his gaunt skin as the detective pours two cups of coffee one after another, dark liquid right up dangerously close to the brim.

“Cream or sugar?” Adachi interrupts Dojima mid-sentence to shove one of the mugs in his direction, flinching imperceptibly when a splash hits his thumb.

“Not today,” Dojima replies. He softens a bit in tone, but he’s ever-so-careful to keep that scowl permanently plastered on. “You? I can’t remember the last time you were early enough to make it here.”

“Nah,” Adachi dismisses. “You know me.”

Yu knows better than most, but somehow, he doesn’t feel like it would take keen eyes to notice the way his mouth quirks at the first sip, betraying the obvious lie. But Yu’s known that since June.

“You hate it black.” It comes out before Yu can stop it. Or maybe just doesn’t try to.

It’s brief, but Yu catches it because he’s looking too closely not to. His eyes widen, flat despite the arched eyebrows, and takes in a long sip, knuckles turning several shades white around the handle. His thin lips press into a line around the brim, but before Yu can study it further, he masks it over into neutral surprise, confusion lighting up his face. “Huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Dojima counters, spinning on his heel towards Yu and crossing his arms, accusatory.

“Nothing,” Yu deflects, sizing up the particular masquerade of ignorance Adachi’s worn today as he half-heartedly calculates his own. “Just a guess.”

It’s the truth, but when Dojima asks Adachi himself he denies it, of course. The detective laughs off the awkwardness with a weary sidelong glance, and Yu doesn’t miss the way their gazes linger for the rest of the brief, somewhat stilted visit, but it’s not any of his concern. It won’t matter come morning.

And it doesn’t.

He calls him ‘Tohru’ once, on the eighteenth run. He’s getting tired, sloppy, and he’s rapidly losing track of how many times he’s had Adachi in his home and when and why and for how long. He’s starting to blur the broad strokes and details, whether he’s supposed to press him against the fridge or wave from the porch this time to see him off. But he’s moved fast in this one, the desperation starting to wear at him soul and body, idly realizing in the back of his mind he’s eclipsed a real year in here. But to the rest of the world, it’s July, and they’re a tangled mess of sweat and teeth under the sheets, bleeding out summer heat.

It isn’t the first time he’s gotten him to bed. It’s easy, once Yu figures out the tricks. He thought age might be a deterrent, once, but that’s long out the window. If he pushes, Adachi relents with what Yu now recognizes might be, on anyone else, enthusiasm.

But it’s not anyone else. It’s Adachi, and no matter how much he pushes in other areas, the stench of Ameno-Sagiri still clings to him like the densest cloud. But it’s Adachi underneath, and that’s the problem. That’s why he’s wasted a year, tossing over and over in an endless, restless sleep getting nowhere.

But there are nice pit stops along the way, sometimes. In the ‘real’ world, whatever that counts for anymore, they never got to this part. Sometimes Yu wishes that they had, because he loses his virginity in the fifth (and longest) loop and it’s nothing like he was told it would be, devoid of real intimacy and hushed with a hand to avoid suspicion. No matter how much Adachi plays it up, that time or any other, it’s just a hollow imitation of what Yu is really chasing after, and despite himself, what he’s chasing after has always laced with this inexplicable desire. He’d love to say he’d be here even if it wasn’t, but this road was already being traversed, albeit slowly, long before he stepped into the Velvet Room that night in December.

It doesn’t make him feel better, but if everything is erased come the morning when he decides he wants it to be, even a shadow of it is better than nothing. He has no frame of reference for if it’s good or not, but the heat and skin is a great excuse to get up close, and a distraction from the ache of Adachi’s stubbornly lightless eyes when that closeness reveals the extent of Yu’s continued failure.

They never slept together in the real world, no, but Adachi said he could use his first name, once. If he wanted. He was half-drunk and more than half-asleep, one of those nights where he and Dojima both came home late and Adachi slept on the couch, almost blurred enough to be lucid. Yu was on the floor, TV on for pretense but long abandoned, consumed by the sensation of Adachi’s spindly fingers in his hair and his bony knee against the back of his shoulder.

You can use my first name, if you want, he’d said, slurred and muttered so low Yu barely made it out in time. Just not when others are around.

Yu tested it out on his tongue. Tohru.

He swears that just for a second he saw his real eyes then.

He never got the chance to try it again, and he’s been careful not to use it here, but sometimes, when he’s blurred into lucidity in his own way, it floats across his mind.

It’s late afternoon in the eighteenth loop and he’s sweating out the poison of a year in ruins, hopeless and aching and frustrated and pent up and heartbroken. Adachi finds the delicate skin between the bones of his neck and bites down, and he’s everything around Yu, everywhere above him, and he feels like a man possessed when he slings an arm around his narrow shoulders and moans, “Tohru.”

This loop had been going better than most. They were close, maybe just as close as they were the first time if not more, but all the hope that had built up shatters when Adachi peels back. For a foolish second, Yu allows it to swell, drinking in the sight of a blessedly real look of confusion and vulnerability, red lips parted and brows furrowed over brown irises, but a drop is nothing to a man in the desert, and when Adachi blinks, all he sees is grey, impersonal and cold as the fog.

“I didn’t say you could use that,” Adachi hisses, tightening his hold around one of Yu’s wrists until he feels the bruise that will form underneath. He opens his mouth again like he has more to say, but whatever it is, he thinks the better of it, crashing into Yu with a kiss that’s all teeth and feels more like a punch than anything else. The only word he mouths between Yu’s teeth is a strained, “Apologize.”

Yu doesn’t bother replying, because he’s already decided he’ll wake up back in April tomorrow, and his words don’t mean anything to him anyway. Not this time.

He’s starting to lose hope there is a time they will.

The real break is the twentieth, and it’s not even really Adachi that breaks. It’s Yu, and it’s a complete fracture.

It’s May this time, and Yu feels more tired than he’s ever felt in his life. Every step, every day drags at him like creeping inertia, and he’s never felt more alone in his life, even with Adachi close enough to touch under the kotatsu.

(They haven’t, yet, and Yu’s beginning to think it’s the wrong approach to take. He’s not sure if it’s a relief or not.)

It’s not just Adachi, though his glimmers of humanity still taunt Yu in his every waking moment. It’s missing Yosuke, Chie, the rest of his friends who can’t know him in the way he knows them, and he longs for the Yosuke that can read his mind with a glance so badly it rises bile in his throat. He misses his friends, all of them, together in a way they haven’t been this whole time. He misses the feeling of belonging somewhere, anywhere, other than in a fight he doesn’t know how to win, and he feels himself slipping out of control, hour by hour, day by day.

It’s late. Not past midnight, but late enough that Nanako is long asleep and Dojima still has hours left at the station, leaving Yu, as he so often is, alone in his living room with Tohru Adachi, making every drink of tea last longer than necessary until the liquid has chilled.

It drives him crazy how he won’t leave, how he won’t just throw the last of Yu’s belief in him out with the bathwater and finally end this charade, but he never does. He always lingers, always takes such gentle care of Nanako, always wastes time he doesn’t have. It itches under his skin something fierce.

There’s not even a specific trigger, really. He’s spent too many hours like this in undefined spaces of time, sending his glance back between the TV and Adachi’s casual slouch that when Adachi asks him if he wants more tea, easy and polite as anything, Yu just knows he can’t take it a second longer.

“I know who you are, you know.”

Adachi’s a good actor. A great one, even, but now Yu knows the signs. His weakness is feigning ignorance when confronted directly. Yu’s left it off the table until now for a reason. Adachi stops mid-turn to face him, still cross-legged on the ground below. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know who I am?” Yu presses. He leans his elbow on the table and stares up, ice in his eyes for a mask of his own. “I‘ve never been able to figure out when you put the pieces together. You’re not stupid, though, so I think you have to by now.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about,” Adachi dismisses, brows furrowed in a practiced mix of confusion and something not dissimilar to pity. It’s pristine. But Yu’s been around too long not to catch how his words spill faster than his normal drawl, or the slight tremor in his leg as Adachi turns back on his heel towards the kitchen before the sentence is allowed to hang in the air. Yu’s quicker, though, snatching his wrist with a bruising grip. It’s all bone and tendon underneath. Adachi’s slow to acknowledge him again, even as he freezes. “Seriously. You’re not making any sense.”

“I am,” Yu insists, firm. Adachi’s lips fall into a frown, but they don’t harden past the mask. Not quite. “And you know I am. You think you’re in control of this game, but you’re not.”

Something flashes in Adachi’s eyes, gears whirring behind the blackness. “What, you and I? I thought you were coming on a little strong, kid, but...”

“You could say that,” Yu cuts him off before he can think of any more bullshit to fill the silence. He tightens his fingers and uses Adachi’s limp arm to pull himself to his feet, staring straight into his eyes all the while. “But I’d appreciate it if you dropped the act. I know about the TV, I know about the girls, I know about your plan to use Namatame, I know about the fog, and I know what you are. I’m done playing around. So spare me.”

“That’s a lot of crazy words in a row,” Adachi begins, slowly, calculated, but before he can get any further, Yu tugs down hard on his arm and twists, digging his nails in with full strength. Not even Adachi’s fast enough to suppress a wince completely. “It’s a little suspicious.”

“You hate it here,” Yu continues, because now that he’s started, he’s not sure the floodgates will stop until he crashes headfirst into the end of this cycle. “You were sent out here as punishment, and you can’t stand this town. You hate me, too. Or at least you think you do.”

“Oh?” Adachi tries to wrench his hand back, mask slipping into stone when Yu doesn’t relent. His expression fixes itself, but the light doesn’t return to his eyes, dark and matte and empty. Good, just a little further to the edge. “What makes you think you know that about me?”

Yu considers for a second whether or not to say it. “Because I know you. I’ve known you for years.”

He doesn’t have to waste time wondering if that will throw Adachi off-balance as the only detail that doesn’t align with his own secrets. It shows with another crack, a sneer pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, even you have to know how insane you sound.”

“I know how this all ends, too.” Yu takes another step forward into the detective’s personal space until they’re toe to toe, their faces close enough he’s sure Adachi can feel his words ghost across his face. “We catch up to Namatame in November and you in December. You’re going to prison because you murdered two people. So, yeah. I know you.”

Yu follows Adachi’s eyes down to the holster on his own hip, but whatever chill the sight of a gun would have once brought him is nothing but a dull roar in the back of his ears, barely a consideration over the rush of indiscernible emotion breaking over and over again in waves. Adachi licks his chapped lips, and in a low growl of a voice he mutters, “You really should shut your mouth right about now, you know.”

“Or what?” For all his talk, it’s almost too easy for Yu to reach over and take his other wrist, another step driving Adachi up against the couch. Yu puts a knee between his legs to keep him in place, but he doubts he’ll have to worry much about that. He’s gotten his attention, now. “You’ll kill me? You couldn’t do that the first time, but good luck.”

“If you’re right about me,” Adachi whispers, and when he blinks, there it is. There’s a grey cloud over his eyes, and his words are acrid and distorted, like static in a TV and only just loud enough for Yu to hear mere inches away. He swipes his nails, sharper than the look, against the skin of Yu’s own wrists. “I could take care of you right here and now. Not the smartest plan, Yu.”

“You won’t.” Yu waits just a second’s pause to drive home that it’s not from the pain before he drops his hands with a force that pushes Adachi back into the cushions, a foreign noise catching in his throat. He braces himself back up with a knee, wiping at the corners of his lips with the back of a hand. “Wanna know why?”

Adachi just glares at him, something feral in the way his lips curl that would have chilled him to the bone back around the first time. But he’s not scared of him anymore. Maybe he never really was. “Shut the fuck up.”

They’re the words everything in this conversation has been peaking towards, everything this entire year has been leading up to and more, but now that they’re on the tip of his tongue, he’s choking. They come out just as frayed and worn as he feels, something heavy strangling him on the way out. “Because you’re better than this.”

“Is that really what you think?” Yu doesn’t blink, after that. He’s not even sure if he breathes, too busy training every ounce of focus and knowledge he’s stored up to try and parse the effect of that, to try and make sense of something, anything happening deep inside. But it’s not his face or body that changes, this time. It’s his voice, and even with that twisted expression still plastered on, it’s impossibly small in comparison. All Yu can do is nod in reply. “Then you’re the dumbest fucking person I’ve ever met.”

He might not be wrong about that, at this point. “That’s not even the dumbest part.”

There’s a pause where he waits for Adachi to say something, to move, to even just react, but he doesn’t. He just stares at him like he wants to burn a hole right through his skin, and Yu feels himself slipping away. When he speaks, he hears his own voice as if in the wind. “I keep going back to April over and over again trying to find a way and prove it. You’ve already lost.”

“I said, shut—” Adachi reaches for his gun, just a tiny, almost certainly ceremonial flick of the wrist, but that means the conversation’s done. There’s nowhere to go from here. Over and over again, brick wall after brick wall, there’s nowhere to go from here, and something has to break.

He doesn’t have time to think about it, but he has time to spring forward, sprawl across Adachi’s hips, and grab hold of his wrist again, bracing Adachi down hard with his other elbow. He fumbles until he lines their hands up together, finger over finger. Yu can almost fool himself into thinking there’s something in Adachi then that’s so, so close to something real, but it must be his imagination. “What the fuck are you doing?”

"If only we could have met sooner," he says, because he won't remember it.

He knows Adachi won’t pull the trigger, so Yu closes his eyes, and takes the liberty of doing it himself.

April 12th doesn’t come again.

The last thing he sees is the shock on Adachi’s face, and not even long enough to properly appreciate its honesty before everything goes black. Well, black for a second before it fades into a familiar, glowing blue spreading out from underneath his feet.

He floats like falling in a dream, exhaling into his slow and heavy descent feet-first until he reaches the solid ground of the Velvet Room limousine floor. He’s standing as he always does, facing Igor with Margaret and that same new, uncomfortable empty space on either side of him like they’re Yu’s perpetually unimpressed judges panel, but it’s been so long since he’s been summoned to it against his will he’s as off-balance as he was back in the real April. He stumbles into his first step, a headache coming on from the residual ringing in his skull.

“Spinning our wheels a bit, are we?” Igor says, and if Yu knew any better, he’d be certain he was mocking him. “I sense some frustration.”

Yu just rubs at his temple with the heel of his hand and stares right back at his bloodshot eyes, clearing his throat. Margaret closes her book with a sidelong glance and sets it on the table, folding her hands in her lap. The silence is thick, but Igor rarely seems to have any interest in his questions being answered.

“You’ve tested a truly impressive array of strategies in attempting to best the machinations of fate,” Igor continues, spidery fingers spreading out across his jaw and tapping a slow and inscrutable rhythm. “I wonder, are you beginning to sense if there are limits to even your power and tenacity?”

The way Igor talks tires Yu out on even the best days, but with the aftershocks of his brain rattling around in his skull, it’s excruciating. He grinds down on closed eyes, and when he blinks them back open, there’s an extra extension onto the car’s booths that wasn’t there before, looping out and around the table to form a seat across from Igor at a more than appropriate professional distance. Igor gestures lazily in its direction, and before Yu can think better of it, his feet carry him into its velvet embrace. It’s more comfortable than it has any right to be.

The silence is such a relief that it takes longer than it should to realize they are, in fact, waiting for a response this time.

“What, are you here to tell me it’s too late?” Yu asks, not even trying to mask the annoyance. He expects it’s just another thing that’s a foregone conclusion in this place. “Really nice ride you sent me on, in that case.”

Igor seems to consider this for a moment, the pace of his tapping increasing incrementally. That eternal smile is even more unnerving up close. “I fear there are constraints around the circumstances of your arrival that may prove to be insurmountable.”

Something must show on Yu’s face, because Margaret straightens her shoulders and turns to Yu several degrees, blinking her gaze between the two briefly. “I believe what my master means to say,” she begins, pausing for a breath that might be meant for Igor to stop her. Either way, he doesn’t take it. “Is that April itself may be too late.”

“Much of your situation was decided long before our introduction,” Igor seems to agree, Margaret folding back into her seat. “Your presence in this town was simply a catalyst.”

“So is that it?” Yu asks, chest falling, the blood rushing to sink deep in his gut. It’s not like he didn’t expect this, didn’t brace himself for it nearly every time his eyes closed, but to hear it is another thing entirely. The unmistakable sting of failure spreads out through his limbs like an electrical shock that rattles his bones. He sighs, crossing his legs and arms as he leans back. “Did you already know that or did you just need me to test it?”

When Igor offers a hum instead of an immediate reply, Margaret takes the point again. “We had an inclination,” she hedges, even as her face remains as dispassionate as ever. “But it wasn’t a certainty. In truth, you’ve been buying us time to try to find a solution.”

“And it is, is what you’re saying,” Yu extrapolates, feeling the blood cool into something like numbness, tingling and uncanny. It’s welcome, in a way. “There’s nothing I could have done from here.”

“That’s correct,” Igor chirps, ever the stalwart bearer of bad news. “But, not all strands of fate are absolute. We have arranged… an alternate path forward, if rehabilitation is still what you desire most.”

Somehow, that does very little to abet his headache in receding. It does get his attention, though.

“You should be warned,” Margaret says, gold eyes flashing in the glow of the atmosphere passing by. “It cannot be undone. This sort of manipulation requires a delicate process, and even if you find you’d rather return to the current circumstances and decisions you’ve made thus far, it will prove impossible. Placing your arrival in Inaba before April will restart your journey in its entirety.”

Yu lets those words pass over him and linger in the air, and then nods, because it’s not really a question for him anymore. If it was, this would have been over a long time ago. Longer than he would care to admit. “How far back would I go?”

“January,” Margaret replies. “We cannot affect his fate. Only yours.”

Right. It’s so easy to forget Adachi came to Inaba before him, that their lives have somehow existed independently before the other. It seems like a fantasy now. “And you think that will be enough time?”

Margaret slides her index finger between the page she’d marked, pulling it back into her lap and running her thumb across the spine. “If you accept, it will have to be. Your current methods aren’t sustainable. This reversal isn’t something that can be performed as many times as necessary.”

“These conditions will provide a substantially higher probability for success than what you’ve encountered previously.” Before Yu can properly synthesize that, Igor starts up again, finally ceasing the tapping to fold his hands underneath his chin. His head cocks a little too far to the left to be natural. “But unlike here, even your most desperate of actions will prove permanent. Do you find this acceptable, Trickster?”

Now he’s certain Igor is mocking him. But even if he had reasonable objections, Yu is too far gone past the point of reasonability for it to matter. The time to care about being too far gone was twelve to fifteen loops ago, and right now, he’s so tired, he’ll take anything. Wasting the now permanent time he has on further consideration is pointless. “I do.”

Igor snaps his fingers and grows that piercing smile over the entire length of his hallowed face. “Very well.”

When Yu wakes up again, it’s on a train, mid-morning snow flurries gathering frost on the cabin window as the countryside rushes by.

He stirs with a shiver, cold from where his face was pressed up against the glass, and for the first few seconds, he feels caught in that space between dreaming and reality, trying to take stock of his surroundings. That sensation has always accompanied such a particular time and place that he almost forgets why it’s this empty cabin and not his bed that he’s waking up in, but any lingering static of doubt is washed away like the rainwater that coats this town when the announcement rings, “Now entering Yasoinaba Station.”

Yu rubs the sleep from his eyes, a kink in his neck and a tight squeeze in his chest from the journey here. It felt like just seconds, but it couldn’t have been. His legs are stiff, but quick to warm up once he grabs his bags and finds the exit. The cold chills his bones to the core the second he hits open air despite the winter jacket wrapped over his shoulders, the first concrete clue he has that something might, this time, in fact be different.

Part of him wonders if the Dojimas will show up at all or if Igor might find tying up such details unnecessary, but he swallows at least some of his prepared curses for the man at the sight of them past the ticket gate, Nanako bundled up and hiding behind her father’s legs. Her face doesn’t brighten at the sight of him; it only shrinks her back further into the shadows, but Yu smiles at her anyway, brighter than he ever could have managed the first time around.

“Damn, you’ve grown,” Dojima greets, jacket slung over his shoulder like it’s not well below freezing. Yu makes a face at it, but it’s not noticed, so he doesn’t bother following up. “The last time I saw you…”

“I was in diapers, yeah,” Yu finishes with a grin before tossing his bag in the backseat of Dojima’s off-duty car, because he knows how it goes from here.

For now, at least.

It’s not too long of a drive back, with no traffic to draw Yu from his reverie of making a paper crane for Nanako out of some brochure sheets in the glove box—a little token he’s discovered works magic in warming her shyness. Dojima is as clueless with small talk as he’s ever been, but it’s a dream for all Yu can feel. Despite how many times he’s traveled back to the start, it’s easy to forget just how difficult that first hour is, still filled with stilted silences not even Yu’s exceptional knowledge can quite fill. It’s only his second time replaying today, after all.

Dojima breaks the uneasy quiet with a sigh, rubbing his forehead as they pause at the only stoplight in town. “I don’t know what I was thinking, letting my sister send you today.”

“Why’s that?” Yu asks, strangely invigorated by a question he doesn’t already have the answer to.

“Sorry, it’s not your fault.” Dojima adjusts the mirror, giving a quick smile back to Nanako, who’s still nervously messing with her hands in the back seat. “It’s just… They’re dropping a transfer detective onto me. Some city hotshot, he gets in on the same train tomorrow. I told them to wait until Monday so I could help you get settled in, but no dice.”

Yu delicately folds another edge onto the wing of the paper crane, peering at Dojima from underneath his bangs. “I see.”

As discreetly as possible, he pulls out his phone to check the date, so deep in the sensation of newness that he’s completely forgotten until now. January 7th, 2011.

So, this is where it begins. He examines the crane one last time, smiles wide, and pivots in his seat to hand it to Nanako, getting her attention with a nod of his head. She doesn’t light up like she does over a gift from a Yu she knows, but her eyes brighten as if on command, a shy smile tugging at her face as she exclaims, “For me?”

Yu just nods in reply and places the crane gingerly in her hand, careful not to crush it when the car lurches to a halt in their driveway.

“Pain in the ass to drive to the station twice,” Dojima mutters as he puts it into park, dropping his voice down low so Nanako doesn’t hear. She hears all sorts of things she’s not supposed to, but Dojima will get that someday. “I won’t have to get up too early tomorrow though, so make yourself comfortable tonight.”

“We could go with you,” Yu offers, his mouth, for once in his life, moving just a step before his thoughts. He unbuckles his seatbelt, stretching his back against the seat before reaching for the door handle. “I don’t know about how Nanako feels about two car trips in two days, but.”

Yu has to hold back the wink when he looks to assess Nanako’s reaction to that, because he knows exactly how she feels about multiple car trips.

“Can we really?” She springs out of the car the second Dojima pulls the door open, her grip on the crane delicate despite her enthusiasm.

“That won’t be necessary.” Dojima puts a hand to the back of his head and furrows his brows, but there’s a look in his eyes that lets Yu know this subject is safe to push—it’s one that won’t take long to break, either. “It’s just work stuff, and you’ve had a long trip already, Yu.”

“I think it could be fun.” Yu shrugs, slinging one of his bags back over his shoulder while Dojima takes the remaining load. His mind is still racing faster than his words can catch, but now that he’s lining up the facts, he’s confident in his spontaneous plans. He smiles down at Nanako, closing the door behind her. “Plus, you wanna meet your Dad’s new partner, right?”

He’d feel bad about utilizing her, but she’s just such an effective weapon. Besides, that’s what the crane was for.

“Of course I do!” Nanako insists, enthusiastic and so nearly the girl he knows and loves. “It’s not fair if we don’t all come to his train too.”

Dojima folds easier than the brochure paper by a mile, and Yu checks off his first win in the column. He doesn’t make a habit of getting ahead of himself, but it’s a bit more fun not knowing the script. He hides a smile behind the curve of his hand, and follows the Dojimas inside.

'Not too early' by Dojima’s standards is still eight AM on a Saturday, and while that qualifies as criminal by Yu’s usual schedule, he’s up bright and early like he’s tossed back the entire pot of coffee in the kitchen. Nanako, ever the early riser, is parked by the TV, but she springs to her feet fast and is in a substantially better mood than her father, who does take the entire pot of coffee and still insists on a morning smoke before getting in the car.

Dojima makes him sit in the back seat, which is fine by him, especially when Nanako tentatively asks for a paper crane tutorial. And who is he to say no?

Meticulous folds provide an outlet for his hands while his mind works, trying to fill in the gaps of his knowledge of Adachi as he first arrived in this town. What he’d been able to get out of Dojima about the man before Yu’s own arrival had been perfunctory and not particularly revealing, painting a picture of a man whose sins were no more or less obvious than the glimpses Yu has gathered. Very well.

The man they find on the station platform at least looks exactly as the one he found in April, save for a missing red tie and a rumpled hoodie over his ill-fitting suit. He looks just as tired, slouched over in that horrible posture as always with eyes dark enough for Yu to see even through the windows of the car. He sets Nanako’s crane aside before letting them both out of the backseat. Dojima lingers for an extra second to sigh performatively into the rearview mirror and place an unlit cigarette between his lips.

It’s raining out by the station despite the season, because of course it is. Yu often feels like the clouds follow this man around, clinging to the grey in his aura and bringing the darkness out into the skies. He looks every bit the kicked stray he must feel he is: damp, pale, and wide-eyed at the sound of their approach, stupid grin stickered on his lips.

Yu has to wonder, not for the first time, where this mask was created. It’s cinematic to imagine him on the train car practicing putting on that air of boyish obliviousness, twisting his lips and eyebrows to perfection in the window reflection and reciting pleads of ignorance in character voice, but he tends to think it’s just a decision he made one day. He woke up, decided that was how he was going to protect himself here, and slipped it on. It’s professional, respectable in a way.

It’s not insignificantly pathetic as well. But he would hate that pity, and he’s not the only one who is skilled in the art of putting on a mask.

Despite himself, acting excited to see him isn’t quite that strenuous.

“What’s this?” Adachi asks as they approach, running a hand through his rain-sprinkled hair. It’s somehow shorter and more haphazardly cut than before. “You bring the whole family? Well, what an honor.”

“We wanted to greet you,” Nanako offers from somewhere behind Dojima’s legs, poking her head out to offer a quiet smile. “We picked him up yesterday.”

“You mentioned something about your nephew coming up,” Adachi gestures lazily with his shoulder, barely looking over at Yu. “Guess it’s a dual welcome, eh?”

Yu is positive no one else catches the bitter undertone. Dojima attempts his most professional smile and walks up the steps to shake his hand, cigarette still between his teeth. He lights it, speaking between puffs of smoke. “It probably doesn’t mean much, but welcome to Inaba.”

Adachi’s eyes say, no, it doesn’t, but his lips say, “You brought the whole brigade out for a real small-town welcome, so I can’t complain. It’s cold up here, though.”

“Both of you are underdressed,” Yu supplies as he follows up, well-covered in a light blue jacket. It occurs to him he’s never seen Adachi in winter appropriate attire in any timeline, and makes a note to follow up on that. “It’s a little different than Tokyo.”

“Kyoto,” Adachi corrects with a light snap of his jaw, and that’s a new one. It seems ridiculous he’s never specified before. “But same difference. Is it always this… wet?”

“Basically,” Dojima shrugs, leading him back down the steps. Adachi peels out from underneath the awning with a frown, shoving his hands deep in his jacket pockets like he’s an unruly teenager and not an assumedly respectable detective. “You get used to it. Kinda.”

He doesn’t look like he believes that even a little judging by the purse of his lips taking in the sleet-slicked streets, but he nods all the same. By the time he falls in line with Yu and Nanako around the car, his smile is so easy, it almost reaches his eyes.

“You must be Nananko-chan,” he greets the girl at his side. She takes up the shadow behind Yu’s legs, and although it’s probably reflexive, he counts it as a victory.

She nods and hums a little. “You’re working with Dad, right? You’ll probably be around a lot.”

“We’ll see,” Adachi shrugs beneath the smile, leaning against the car without opening it in a mimic of Dojima, who’s sucking down nicotine and awkwardly staring out into the mountains. “Not everyone’s keen on mixing work and life.”

Yu has to fight off a smile at that, because he still feels like he knows this version of him too. At least right now. “Of course you’ll be around.”

Adachi looks at him like he’s grown an unnatural limb, and Yu shouldn’t glow under it as much as he does. “Oh?”

“You’re partners,” Yu explains with a turn of his head, opening up the door for Nanako to slide into the backseat. As if to prove he’s still listening, Dojima gives an affirmative grunt around his smoke, taking one more long drag before snuffing it out on a nearby pole and pocketing the remains like a good samaritan. “I figure you’ll be spending more time with us than just about anyone.”

“Huh,” Adachi says, flat. He obscures his face behind his passenger side door just enough to hide whatever cracks across it as Dojima moves to deposit his bags in the trunk, smaller and sparer than even Yu’s own belongings from the day before. Yu follows him down, unsure if it’s a relief or not to have a barrier between their faces again. “Well. Wouldn’t that be nice.”

It would be, if he let it. Yu should know.

But it’s time to make him mean it.

Dojima puts his keys in the ignition, and the twenty-first cycle begins.

Chapter Text

There’s something off about this town, but Yu already knew that.

He doesn’t know if it was always this way, or if it became this way because of what’s occurred, but there’s something eerie about its insularity, its over-familiarity with itself. In the loops, he dreamt of Ameno-Sagiri and blinking eyes through the walls by night, and by day he’d walk the streets with the phantom footfalls and creaks of shadow pursuers in his ear, imagining his name on the lips of every housewife he passed.

Sometimes, he had dreams of Adachi and the room in the TV. He has a camera in the real world, somewhere inside his bags that he’ll go home and put half-hidden on his bookshelf. When Yu had pointed it out the real first time, he’d laughed and brushed the dust off, and Yu was patient, playing along with him in pretending to not know the settings. It didn’t seem like anything at the time, other than the way he maybe felt something shift when Adachi turned it on to snap a picture of Yu sitting on his bed, just one, before hastily putting it back. But he had dreams about that camera, too. There’s a human eye through the technicolor lens in the center, and it sees everything.

All it did was give a certain tangibility to something he’d already been feeling, though—that this place is too small to ever really disappear in, and there’s nowhere to fully hide. Someone, somewhere, is bound to one day know everything you do. If they don’t already.

Maybe it’s because he’s used to the city and the cloak of anonymity it provides, as well as how pitifully easy it is to exist and never be truly seen at all if you desire, but even when it's been to his benefit he’s always felt exposed, a little too stripped-down. Holding his tongue comes naturally, and while there’s plenty of residents he feels comfortable enough around to let loose, he feels grateful for the ability when his instincts say to stand down.

Insignificant aberrations of change over time, Igor had said, and Yu wonders if that’s all it is when Nanako asks to go to the bathroom this time when it didn’t seem to cross her mind before. It’s especially curious it didn’t cross Yu’s either that it was something that happened the first time at all, yet it’s clear as day now when Dojima huffs but still rolls into town from that exit, a sudden unease as thick as the fog that covers the town rolling over him with it upon their arrival.

The attendant is as impassive and pleasant as ever, but Yu still hangs back by the car, hands firmly in his coat pockets in preparation for their acknowledgment. To his surprise, though, it’s Adachi—with his hands bare to the cold and foolishly curled at his side as he too steps out for air—that they greet with a handshake this time. Yu even lingers just for a moment after they turn back inside the building to see if they’ll shake his as well, just for the sake of continuity, but they disappear and Nanako takes their place, Dojima ushering her back into the car.

He doesn’t feel like he’s missing out on much, regardless.

Even with the snow and sleet piled up on the sidewalks, it’s pure rain coming down from the sky with fog rising up in wafts from the streets, and Yu can’t imagine a more fitting welcome. Dojima turns on the car but doesn’t pull out of the lot just yet. Instead, he turns to the man next to him in the front seat, sitting slumped over with his head pressed up against the window.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to come over for dinner,” Dojima says, scratching at the back of his head. “But you don’t look so hot.”

“Long trip, I guess,” Adachi laughs, light and airy, but Yu can see the way he rubs at his forehead from his own seat and easily imagine the obvious crease of pain between his eyes. “It might be catching up to me a little.”

Yu would love to offer that something similar happened to him, even if just to see he could convince him to stay anyway for the sake of receiving better care than he’ll almost assuredly be giving himself at home, but he can’t say that. He’s long since learned that sort of admission doesn’t go over well in the room when it’s an obvious lie to this version of reality. Instead, he says, “We have medicine at home that might help.”

He doesn’t miss the groan Adachi masks with his prompt reply of, “No, that’s fine. I’ll just rest.”

“If you’re sure.” At first, Dojima looks like he’s about to argue with that by the hard line of his lips, but after a few seconds of looking at the man again, he just sighs and pulls the car back out into the street. “We’ll just have to take a raincheck until tomorrow, then.”

The breath Adachi lets out sounds like relief, but that’s to be expected. Adachi mutters out his address after fumbling around on his phone for it, and Yu holds his tongue.

There’s something off about this town, about how it seems to break down the body of anyone who enters it, how the atmosphere seeps into the bones and fills up the brain with buzzing static. But he already knew that.

There’s something off about Adachi and how he looks back at the car as he walks through his apartment door, like he’s shocked Dojima bothered to wait until he got inside, and something even stranger about how he slams it behind him. But Yu already knew that one, too.

Somehow, he’s here anyway.

He knows what Adachi’s apartment looks like on the inside, and Yu is fairly certain he’s the only soul in town who does. If the phantom eyes of Inaba have a limit, save for the most prominent eye of all implanted deep somewhere in Adachi’s amygdala, Yu imagines they stop right at his doorstep. The dim, sparse studio is covered in such an oppressive cloud of misery he’s suspicious anything could pierce its silence, save for maybe a few houseplants and a trip to Okina’s furniture store. Both of which he’s refused timeline after timeline, of course.

Sitting under the bright yellow lights of Dojima’s kitchen, with their rays reflecting blinding streaks against well-worn linoleum and a full refrigerator dotted with memorabilia, Yu tries and fails to think about anything else. It’s no wonder Adachi slinked to the opportunity to spend time here whenever it was offered; he is fundamentally self-punishing, and it must have made crawling back into his hole at the end of the night all the more cinematic.

The jury’s out on whether or not Yu qualifies as self-punishing in turn, but he gets no sick thrills out of imagining Adachi rolling out his threadbare futon, feverish and alone and cold from the permanent draft through his window, no sense of catharsis.

Maybe, if it were any other loop, Yu would let himself give in to the warm allure of Dojima and Nanako’s hospitality and play at reacquaintance, but it’s not. The Yu he has to pretend to be wouldn’t be hung up on the details of what he doesn’t know, but the real him knows, and the real him can’t shake the feeling it’s wrong. He sees little sense in listening to ignorance. At least… not in this moment, with the late afternoon sun buried deep behind furious clouds and the town ready to devour its young.

The whole point at this stage has to be that he knows what it means, doesn’t it?

“We should take some food to Adachi,” Yu pipes up during dinner, once there’s a lull in conversation long enough to justify it. “Maybe some aspirin.”

“That’s a great idea,” Dojima agrees, smiling a little tight like he's embarrassed he didn’t think of it first. He might have if Yu had let him, but he doesn’t feel that kind of patient anymore. “I’d say Nanako could go with you, but it’ll be after dark by the time we wrap up, I’m afraid.”

Nanako looks a mix of scared and indignant, messing with the hem of her dress with a frown. Yu gives her a gentle glance, and offers, “I was thinking she and I could show him around during the day tomorrow if he’s better. He doesn’t report at the station until Monday, right?”

“I know where everything is,” Nanako nods, a beam of pride shining through her still-shy expression. “Could I really?”

He’d done a lot of planning last night, staring at the Dojimas’ guest bedroom ceiling for hours in a sleepless fugue. All the answers aren’t there, but he can at least look a few paces in front of him. Try and get his bearings in these first few desperate days.

“I need to learn the town, too,” Yu explains, more to Dojima than Nanako. To his relief, he’s on his second social-anxiety induced beer and looser in the shoulders than this morning, so there’s little of that sharp detective suspicion Yu is accustomed to receiving at any suggestion. “I figured, you know, two birds one stone.”

“Well, that’s surprisingly considerate of you.” Besides, Yu knows by now that he’s grateful for the both of their arrivals in this city, him and Adachi, and he can feel the power of it hitting simultaneously in his laugh, lighter than he ever remembers this early. “I’m sure Nanako would love to play tour guide.”

Nanako grins at this proper, and it’s all Yu can do not to reach over and squeeze her hand gently in excitement like he does when she knows him better, when she relishes in his presence. He settles for smiling back as she says, “After we’ll have a real welcome party, right? We have to.”

“Of course, of course,” Dojima laughs again at the exaggerated pout that falls over his daughter’s face, reaching over to ruffle her hair despite her protests. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten.”

Something about their idle chatter then feels easy, familiar, and at some point, Yu looks up surprised at the night that’s begun to fall outside, early even for mid-winter. Still, Yu feels awake as ever, hopping up after plates are clear to help clean despite Dojima’s protests and pretending to listen as he dresses while Dojima explains the route to Adachi’s apartment. It’s a route he could walk in his sleep, but he nods along at the appropriate times anyway and asks where the medicine cabinet is for the sake of formality, letting Nanako fish out the tupperware rather than reaching for it himself.

He opens the fridge praying the details are still the same and tries not to let the relief show on his face when he finds a package of made-ready soba noodles, the fancy kind that costs extra. It’s not Adachi’s favorite flavor, it’s Dojima’s, but it’s one of the few things Adachi will eat without complaint and at least has some variety of nutrients in the mix. He takes the liberty of pulling a few snacks out, too, and with Nanako’s help arranges some fruit and vegetables into little bags, enough for a few days at the avian pace he knows Adachi eats at.

With that, he tightens his scarf around his neck and makes his way into the cold Inaba night and towards Adachi’s red apartment door.

Adachi’s apartment is just how he expected it would be, which is to say a vessel of nothing.

He’s slow to answer the door, and through the thin walls, Yu can hear him groan and stagger to his feet to cross the room, each footfall heavier than the last. He looks shocked to see him, but Yu figures he’d be shocked to see anyone, and there are dark circles sunken into his pale skin, the color drained from his lips. If he remembers correctly, Yu hadn’t fared much better his first day by any stretch of the imagination, but on Adachi, all bone on a good day, the sickness looks a special sort of pathetic. There’s what appears to be a bath towel slung over his shoulders and he’s stripped down to nothing but a t-shirt and sweats, the apartment empty behind him save for his futon and a pile of blankets, his bag tossed into the far back corner.

“Oh, it’s you,” Adachi greets, flat. His bangs are slick to his forehead with sweat, shirt falling to expose pointy shoulder bones. “You’re Dojima’s uh… cousin?”

“Nephew,” Yu corrects, but he’s aware Adachi knows this.

“Whatever,” Adachi mutters before he seems to catch himself even in his haze, averting his eyes and stifling a sigh. “What, did he send you here to drag me out to dinner anyway or something?”

Yu adjusts the canvas tote around his arm, leaning a hand on the doorframe. “No, I thought I’d bring it to you.”

Adachi wrinkles his nose at that. Yu figures he must be too tired to hide it. “What do you mean?”

“I brought you soba,” Yu says simply, claiming the curious tilt of Adachi’s head as a personal victory. “May I come in?”

Adachi hesitates for a moment, his knuckles whitening around their hold on the door before either hunger or keeping up appearances seem to win out and he shuffles aside, holding it wide open for him despite the draft. Inside, it’s somehow even colder, and it lingers even when Adachi locks the door behind him, seeping up through the floorboards.

“He did send you though,” Adachi infers, leaning up against the doorframe and rubbing at his face with the towel. “Right?”

Yu shakes his head and hands him a small plastic bag of blackberries, his favorite. His face softens into shock—innocent, honest, and familiar. As much as Adachi can be any of those things. He takes it with a conspiratorial flick of the wrist, pulling out one as if to examine it for poison.

“I thought it might be nice,” Yu offers, because for once, he has no reason to not tell the truth. “I figured you might not have the energy to cook, and there’s not exactly much around.”

“Well.” Adachi puts the blackberry between his teeth and chews like each motion is labor, which it might be. Yu remembers the headache was the worst part. He catches a flicker of a smile as it goes down, but it’s short and bitter if it exists at all. “How considerate. You shouldn’t get too close, though. Boss would kill me if I got his kid sick.”

“Nephew,” Yu corrects again, because there’s something fun about an Adachi that’s still lively enough to fuck with him but not fight back. It’s strange, and Yu thinks he might be a little fond of it. “I won’t bother you by staying, but I’ll set it out for you.”

It’s not that Yu thinks he can’t do it himself—he’s not that close to death’s door—but it’s a question of whether or not he will. Adachi seems to know this too, working another berry between his teeth with furrowed brows before he sighs, “Sure. Whatever. There’s a few bowls on the kitchen counter.”

It’s a dismissal, but Adachi stalks after him anyway as if he’s nervous he’ll chip one of his 500-yen plastic cups if he leaves him alone. He watches from the doorway between the living room and the kitchen like some sort of rental grim reaper, hallowed under the cheap fluorescent light.

“Kinda pathetic, getting taken care of by some high-schooler on my first day,” he says as Yu quietly pours the noodles into the bowl, thankfully still steaming from the short walk to his apartment. He knows full well Adachi doesn’t own a microwave, and if he owns more than a single rusty pot he’s never seen it. “I would have been fine. You must be a real generous guy to go out of your way like this for just anyone.”

Yu knows he would have been fine, by his standards. But fine by Adachi’s standards is spending the night in a cold sweat half-starved and freezing, and that’s not exactly Yu’s standards. He reaches around a shopping bag for a single glass hidden at the back of the counter and rinses it out before filling it up. After procuring a small handful of aspirin from out of his bag, he hands both to Adachi, stirring the soba impassively as he studies the man’s pained expression.

“The force taught me to never take drugs from kids,” Adachi laughs, too dry to quite sound like a lighthearted joke. Yu thinks it’s funny anyway, but maybe not in the way he intends.

“It’ll help your head.” Yu rolls his eyes and stares at him until he seems to get the hint, lowering his eyes into a line before they close and he tosses the pills back, downing half the glass in one go. He wipes at his lips with his arm after, and only then does Yu hand over the bowl of soba, like rewarding a dog who’s just learned a particularly impressive trick. “So will this.”

“Thanks,” Adachi says after too long a pause, like he’s just remembered to say it. He messes with the chopsticks Yu included with it, testing a noodle on his tongue. It’s infinitely better than nothing. “You really didn’t have to.”

Yu pulls the strap of the canvas bag back over his shoulder, offering Adachi his best smile, the one he reserves for friends and old women he’s trying to charm at the market. “I know, but it was the right thing to do.”

No part of him wants to leave him alone like this, in this dark apartment with nothing but a few odds and ends for company, but it can’t be helped, not when he has to play the long game this time. So instead, he just leaves him with a wave over his shoulder and a soft glance when Adachi turns around to watch him go.

“Is that so?” he wonders, and Yu could ask the same. But he won’t, because it’s past time for that.

Yu has always been of the opinion that it’s important to admit ignorance, even if just to himself. There’s little to be gained by pretending to know what he doesn’t, and an incredible amount to be gained when he shuts the hell up, watches, and learns.

That said, he spends a lot of time thinking he’s sure of things only to be proven spectacularly wrong, so what does he know anyway?

To be fair, he’s never claimed to know Tohru Adachi, because that would be ridiculous. No one really knows him. He doesn’t even know himself, and he’s spent a lifetime locking that away tight. Still, Yu would consider himself to be the person who knows him best by having the closest crude approximation to something like the truth. He’s certainly studied him with scientific fervor.

He could write the book on him if anyone else would ever read it. He knows how he thinks, what drives him, what plagues him, what he looks like when he thinks no one’s watching, what his voice sounds like when he stops faking it. If nothing else, Yu is confident on the outlines.

Walking down the shopping district with him and Nanako under the afternoon sun, Yu starts to wonder if he really ever knew him at all.

This version of Adachi isn’t even that different, not in a way he can put his finger on. He still acts dumber than he is, is still much kinder with Nanako than he has any right to be, still lets the light seep out of his eyes when he thinks he’s out of frame, still…

“This way is the shrine,” Nanako announces, tugging on Yu’s wrist to rush him along. He’s always been a fast walker, but Nanako goes everywhere like she’s on a mission, and he supposes today she is. He’s aware Adachi can be brisk himself, but he’s slouched over and taking his time today, hands in the pockets of his thin yellow hoodie, seemingly determined to stay a stubborn few paces behind. “People say it’s scary at night.”

Adachi doesn’t look too impressed, he hasn’t with anything, but no one but him would think to interpret his dopey smile in that way. Certainly not Nanako, who he beams at whenever she looks his way. “Oh, wow.”

“There’s a lot of bugs in the trees during Spring,” she points to the grove as they make their way up the stone path. Then, more quietly than Yu thinks Adachi can hear over the chatter of other patrons, “Sometimes I come here to pray for Mom.”

Yu reaches down to squeeze her hand, gentle, and she peers up at him, sheepish and sweet. “I’ll have to come here sometime, too.”

“Man,” Adachi says, approaching the offering box and peering in without really absorbing it, just a quick scan of his eyes. “I should have known something was up when Dojima said to come over at two.”

Nanako drags the both of them up to stand with Adachi, running up the steps above him until she’s almost at his height. Out of the corner of his eye, Yu thinks he sees the tail of a fox duck behind the building. It’s a suspiciously nice day, besides the bitter cold, and Adachi’s doing a poor job of pretending to not be freezing, his arms trembling slightly beneath the fabric of his coat.

“You’re getting the full tour,” Yu winks, and Adachi just curls his lip up at him, like he can’t decide if it’s worth trying to react to. “I need one too, and Dojima had to go shopping anyway.”

After staring into the shrine for a minute herself, Nanako seems to decide this is satisfactory and hops back down, leading them with a skip down the path again and back out into the street.

“Well, we do have a pretty good tour guide,” Adachi laughs, nudging Nanako a little with his elbow. It drives Yu crazy. It drives him crazy how he just… says things like that, unprompted, so charming and intentional like he’s trying for her. “Don’t get us lost, eh?”

“I won’t!” Nanako insists, full of seven-year-old earnest offense. Adachi just laughs at that, and Yu can’t help but join, too, because she looks so cute like that and it shouldn’t be this nice, but it is. He’s never quite known what to do with that. “See, there’s Katsumi Textiles!”

“Tatsumi Textiles,” Yu corrects gently, sending a conspiratory glance to Adachi over her head.

“Wow, maybe I take that back,” Adachi teases, flicking one of her pigtails and pretending to reel back when she turns her full ire on him.

“That’s what I meant,” she huffs, and Yu squeezes her hand again until she calms down and can find humor in it too, rolling her eyes and leading them up to the storefront. “Everything they sell is super soft, but it’s really expensive.”

“That’s because it’s handmade,” Yu supplies, before wondering if he’s supposed to know that. There’s nothing on the sign to indicate it, something he realizes with a jolt reaching for the handle, but it’s not too far-fetched of a deduction. Still, he offers over his shoulder, “I read about it online.”

Either way, this seems satisfactory for Adachi, who holds the door open for Nanako with a shrug before following them inside, a soft bell signaling their arrival. From behind the counter, Kanji’s mother offers her greeting, and Yu once again misses the one she used to reserve for Kanji’s dearest friends enough to cry.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he reaches for a scarf on the display wall and prays Mrs. Tatsumi won’t somehow comment on the fact that the one around his neck is from a collection she hasn’t made yet.

Nanako releases her hand to go play with fabric swatches of her own, but Yu’s focus is squarely on Adachi, still lingering by the door like he’s an uninvited house guest. Yu subtly crosses over to him through the lines of fabric until he reaches a display rack of winter jackets in between them, rifling through the sizes and beckoning him over.

“You’ll need something warmer than that,” Yu says, gesturing to the hoodie around his body. Adachi just rolls his shoulders, dropping the cross of his arms that definitely aren’t a ploy to retain body heat.

“I’ll be fine,” Adachi insists, using what might be his favorite phrase. Yu still doesn’t buy it. He pushes through jacket after jacket until his eyes settle on a steel grey peacoat, narrow and sleek and not dissimilar to his own, albeit a much darker shade. “It’s not that bad.”

Yu holds the jacket up, raising an eyebrow. “Something like this.”

Adachi scoffs, but Yu doesn’t miss the way his eyes widen, just a hair. Still, he pushes it back further into Yu’s hand, shaking his head. “For what, 10,000 yen? Not on my salary.”

“Hmm,” Yu hums, feigning disappointment. It's actually more, but that reaction doesn’t surprise him and the gears have already been turning.

After Nanako has thoroughly exhausted her option of brightly colored patterns to touch and she starts heading for the door, Yu dismisses Adachi to go with her while he hovers by the fabric wall. “I’ll be right out, I’m going to special order a scarf.”

Thankfully, Yu doesn’t sense too much suspicion in Adachi as he closes the shop door behind them. Once they’ve safely turned away, he grabs the jacket and quickly turns back around, snatching the scarf Nanako spent the most time looking at from off the shelf as well—a pink and orange floral motif that will suit her brilliantly—and a pair of deerskin gloves for his uncle from the front display. He tucks his own scarf around his neck down into his coat before approaching the counter. Just to be safe.

“All good choices,” Kanji’s mother approves, as kind and gentle in her demeanor as ever. He can’t wait to meet her son again. “I haven’t seen you around before, but I must say, you’re quite fashionable.”

“Thank you,” he beams, reaching for his wallet and rifling through the bills. Thank God Igor doesn’t rob him in between these things, or else he might actually have to resort to murder. “I think you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”

When Nanako curiously peers into the bag and blows his cover by pulling his purchases right out for Adachi and the world to see the second he gets outside, all Yu has to offer is a brisk, “I lied.”

He can’t decide if Adachi wants to kill him or run into the woods so far Yu won’t ever find him, but predictably, he does neither, just widens his eyes far past the point of what should be human possibility and stutters, “You… no, yeah, no, no way.”

“Put it on,” Yu commands, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. Like the perfect accomplice she is, Nanako gets the hint in seconds and mirrors his stance, demanding the same with unflinching seriousness. “You too, Nanako.”

“For me?” She asks, reaching back into the bag and pulling out the scarf underneath, her eyes lighting up into a megawatt grin as she slings it across her shoulders and twirls, reaching over to tug on Adachi’s hand for the first time. He freezes on impact, still staring unblinking at Yu. “Come on, you gotta try it!”

For more than a second, it looks like he’ll object, but he just says, “This is absolutely crazy.”

“I have money,” Yu explains, like that even comes close to covering it. “Think of it as my welcome present. I bought something for Dojima too. I’d rather not have him come home complaining about you complaining about the cold every night.”

“I wouldn’t…” Adachi starts before appearing to decide that’s even too much of a lie for him and grips tightly around the fabric, almost like he’ll rip it apart if Yu makes him flinch. So he stands still as a statue until Adachi’s body heaves into a sigh and he peels the jacket out of its careful fold and slugs it on one sleeve at a time, grumbling something under his breath all the while.

It fits him perfectly. By the crunch of his eyebrows, he seems to know it, too.

“You look great,” Yu says, before reaching for Nanako’s hand again to let her whisk them away to somewhere else before the moment catches up to them. It’s probably wise to not let it linger.

Looking over his shoulder to catch Adachi twisting his torso in the reflection of the shop window, mouth parted and face still drained from color in shock, Yu thinks he might understand, just a little bit more, what the difference is.

This Adachi is still malleable.

After that, Yu sits back and does what he does best—he observes.

It’s almost like watching a dog walk on its hind legs, seeing Dojima interact with Adachi on a level that still has a veneer of professionalism and respect. It’s no less strange to see Adachi so blatantly out of his element in turn, hands in his lap and tone still polite and deferential without any cloying obliviousness. His nerves are genuine, sweat beading underneath his white button-down and hands wringing around his beer can when he thinks no one is looking.

It’s a far cry from his practiced awkwardness, all put-upon with staged peaks and valleys when he talks. He stutters into every sentence and hasn’t turned to leaning into it yet, unable to look anyone in the eye when it’s his turn to talk. He eats slowly, likely as an excuse to engage even less, but still jumps and takes a drink every time Dojima addresses him like he’s been braced for it all along, always ready with a gentler tone for Nanako without a great transition. It’s green in a way Yu’s never seen, and he wants to bottle it up and save it to look back on because he can’t help but feel everything’s flashing by too fast to understand the way he wants.

It doesn’t mean anything different than what he thought it might, but it means something, and he can barely dare to interrupt the delicate dance enough to speak unless he’s spoken to. Or spoken about.

“Your nephew’s a little charity worker,” Adachi laughs. The segue from a conversation about the sushi price, which Yu is certain was more than the already high figure Dojima had just lied and said it was, jars him out of his focus with a stir. “Guess he gets it from you.”

“What do you mean?” Dojima asks, cracking open his second beer of the evening. Adachi is already halfway through his; enough nights together have taught Yu it’s a nervous habit. “I’d love to take credit, but it’s been years since we’ve seen each other.”

“He bought us all little gifts,” Adachi drawls, looking at him across the table with a hardness in his eyes that is very, very familiar. It’s gone in a blink when he turns back to Dojima. “As a welcome present. Isn’t it supposed to be the other way around?”

“Did he now.” Dojima slides his eyes over to Yu, and he freezes with his chopsticks over a piece of inari, pinned down to his actions by it in a way Adachi’s incredulous glances haven’t been able to make him feel all afternoon. Even the way Adachi looks now, still half out of his element and slouched in on himself gets him high on his own stupid bravery like the cat who caught the canary, but Dojima has a way of making him the canary. It’s not the first time today he's wondered if he’s been too bold, but this is the first time he feels caught out for it, like his sheer desperation has been scrawled out on his forehead this whole time. He reaches up to adjust his bangs, half-worried Igor actually has plastered a tally of failed attempts across it, but it’s dotted by only his own worry lines. He does his best to smooth them out while Dojima chews on a piece of sea urchin. “I thought that scarf of Nanako’s was new.”

“He took us to Tatsumi,” Nanako pipes up, enunciating each letter with pride. The only problem with using Nanako as a weapon, Yu forgets, is that it can so easily be turned back around on him. “He got Adachi a coat, and a pair of gloves for Dad too!”

“Oh, wow,” Dojima remarks, but he doesn’t take his eyes off Yu to do it, peering at him over his beer can with a single raised eyebrow. “Those pieces are pretty dear, I guess you do have a charitable streak.”

It isn’t like the silence after that is unusual or deep, but to Yu, it’s oppressive, like the whole neighborhood rather than just the whole table is waiting for him to finish his fried tofu and speak. “I wanted to say thank you for hosting me.”

“Even me?” Adachi asks, twirling his chopsticks up as he rests his jaw in the palm of his hand, pointing them towards Yu with a flick.

“Yours was a welcome present.” Yu wishes he had his own drink to hide behind, something to take the edge off how that curl of his lips feels like a knife, but he settles for his tea, taking a long slow sip. “Moving from the city is hard.”

Yu can tell his reaction to that is genuine too, because his eyebrows fall into a low, hard line before they widen into something more complex, something soft Yu doesn’t have a chance to parse until it’s smoothed over with a laugh into a plastic facsimile of surprise, shiny and cold. “See what I mean?”

Dojima nods at that, and Yu feels his face turn red underneath his focus, hot enough to cut whatever’s whirring behind those eyes off with a quick, “I had a really good job back home.”

“I see,” Dojima’s face cracks into just a tiny bit of a smile, but to Yu’s relief, it doesn’t feel like one borne from disbelief. “Doing what?”

Yu didn’t think this far ahead, but he shoves a piece of tuna in his mouth to mask that, trying to ignore the anticipation hanging as he swallows it down. “Uh. Media programming.”

He has no idea what that means, but thankfully, it seems Dojima doesn’t either, and he doesn’t seem interested in lowering himself to clarify. “Well, I’m not going to tell you how to spend your money, but I’m not looking forward to getting shown up on welcoming duties to the guys at the station.”

“Sorry,” Yu says, unable to stamp down his smile of relief at the sight of Dojima finally, finally closing his eyes and shrugging. Yu’s chest expands for a full breath of air for the first time in minutes. “It was a little spur of the moment.”

“I’ll just have to get you something, too,” Dojima replies, whatever imaginary cloak of tension Yu was under slowly dissipating into the air. If he feels Adachi’s gaze boring into the side of his skull, well, that’s a tension he can live with. Dojima rubs at his stubble and reaches for a piece of salmon. “I wish they included more than one urchin in these things. Are either of your birthdays coming up?”

“Mine’s December twenty-second.” Yu barely stops himself from answering with Adachi’s on impulse, if only for the thrill of knowing it. “So it just passed.”

It’s Adachi’s turn to feel pinned under something now as three sets of eyes turn to him across the table, but it’s not as satisfying as Yu imagined, his face turning several shades paler as he looks down at his hands, running his thumb over the lip of his bottle. He pulls at the collar of his button-down and finally mutters, “February first.”

“Brilliant,” Dojima declares, and Yu doesn’t miss the way Adachi jumps at that, a twitch of his shoulders and a tightening of his knuckles, jaw clenching beneath his thin skin. “That gives us time to whip something together, right Nanako?”

“Right,” Nanako chimes in, all sunshine even in the glow of night through the sliding door. Even Adachi melts a little under it, shoulders falling back down from his ears by degrees. “You’re gonna be around lots, won’t you?”

Yu watches as they zip right back up to hug his neck in a blink, Adachi tossing his eyes back and forth between the two Dojimas like he’s lost a script. If Yu were able to feel Adachi’s hands, he’s sure they’d be as they always are when he feels cornered like this, cold and clammy and hair-trigger to the touch. Yu has the dizzying thought of reaching under the kotatsu for them, but he doesn’t dare. “Well, I’m not sure about…”

“Nonsense!” Dojima claps a hand down on Adachi’s bony shoulderblade, hard, and Yu has to fight down a litany of unwise reactions when Adachi honest to God squeaks at that, surprised and just a touch indignant. “I don’t know how things worked in the city, but now that you're here, treat us like family. Both of you.”

Nanako agrees with a firm nod and a hum, and in the space after Dojima’s hand falls back to his own drink, Yu’s caught in the pull before he realizes he’s met Adachi’s eyes across from him, and he really feels like the canary, now. It’s not just that there’s a blank darkness just underneath the surface—he’s used to Adachi’s anger, his catatonic emptiness. It’s that there’s something else there, too, a scrap of a question that Yu doesn’t know how else to answer than with putting a warmth into his eyes he knows won’t be returned. Adachi does turn from it, though, and it’s a testament to the strange way they’ve always worked together that Yu counts it as a victory.

Still, Yu refuses to give up being the cat just yet, so he nudges Nanako with his elbow and winks, lifting his mug of tea just slightly in playful suggestion as he offers, “To family?”

That smile he loves so much finally breaks across her face and lights up her eyes like a flashbulb, cheeks flushed with a joy he never fails to be so proud to be able to cause. She raises her own mug high in the air, thankfully empty with the amount of vigor she throws into it, and announces, “To family!”

Dojima is quick to follow after, a fond silent laugh on his lips and a red splotch of embarrassment across his own face, and Yu has already had his elbow propped up in position from the start. Once again, it’s Adachi under the microscope, and in the vacuum it creates, Yu wills himself to memorize forever the look on his face, a cross between gobsmacked and terrified. There’s a silent, hidden fury brewing somewhere for Yu in the creases, but it’s wholly swallowed up by unmistakable, organic shock, frozen like he’s been electrified, and Yu can’t get enough of it.

It’s an Adachi he feels like he would have killed for just weeks ago, unpolished and new but so recognizably him it makes his stomach churn, because Adachi was wrong that day in the TV. Yu was wrong earlier today about himself, too. He’s always known him.

It takes Dojima hitting him with his elbow in turn, but eventually, Adachi glances at Yu like he’s afraid he might be some sort of monster and stutters, “To family.”

Yu hides his expression around the rim of his glass when it’s their turn to meet each other’s eyes, because it’s true, maybe he is some sort of monster.

After all, there’s no better solution to a monster than another.

He’s not really surprised to wake up in the Velvet Room that night. It seems like the sort of thing that would happen, based on circumstances.

Sure enough, he barely feels like he’s slept at all by the time he’s yanked out of a dream of the city and floated down to the limousine floor, the cool wash of unreality stirring him awake. That part is to be expected.

What isn’t to be expected is who is there to greet him.

“Marie?” Yu hears himself ask before anything else leaves his lips. Stunned, he blinks at the small girl that’s settled back in at Igor’s side like there was nothing ever amiss to begin with, legs crossed and unwilling to indulge in his attempts at eye contact as usual.

In response, she shrugs her shoulders up to her ears and digs her nails into her forearms, tangible as the last day he saw her. She nods her head, chewing on the corner of her bottom lip. “Hey.”

Across from her, Margaret offers a quiet, fond glance over the top of her book before setting it down unmarked on the seat at her side. Marie loosens a little at that, but it’s still Margaret who takes the liberty to speak first, Igor sitting between them and staring, as always, at Yu and Yu alone.

“It seems there was an unforeseen, but welcome side effect of the time reversal,” Margaret begins, adjusting the cuffs on her uniform sleeves with a roll of her wrists. “Though I’m afraid it hasn’t given the answers we’ve hoped for.”

Marie’s legs sway under the desk, mysteriously just always stopping short of hitting Igor’s knees. “I don’t know what happened and don’t remember jack, is what she means to say.”

He really missed someone willing to talk straight around these parts. It wasn’t something that necessarily crossed his mind before, but now that he’s facing the three of them again, the thought of going through this without a true moderating force is a bit dizzying in retrospect. Margaret, as wonderful as she is, is not necessarily the most approachable with these sorts of things, and Igor…

“I’m glad you’re here,” Yu says, and he counts the red on her cheeks as a tacit admission of at least being glad to see him in turn, if not for her circumstances.

“This place is removed from the flow of time,” Margaret explains, and it’s been said so many times at this point that Yu could mouth it along with her with the exact same cadence. If he were so inclined to do that sort of thing. But he could. “But she’s been here since you arrived, with seemingly no memory of why she left or to where. It appears there’s much left to decode.”

Marie meets his eyes for a split second, and within it, Yu can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt, skin burning with a discomfort he’s let itch in the back of his mind without ever truly stopping to scratch. It’s not as if he didn’t care, of course he does—he couldn’t fake the relief he feels at seeing her again if he didn’t—but even with Margaret’s assertions that the loops would keep Marie’s situation locked in stone until she could find her, just like the rest of the ‘real’ world was kept frozen out, he still chose to pursue this first.

The inkling that there’s something more he’s not grasping isn’t lost on him, it hasn’t been this entire time, but that isn’t a solvent for the clear result of his priorities. They brought him here, and now that he’s facing someone else he’s still failed to really fully save, there’s no way to explain it to her through the tightness in his throat. He can’t even explain it to himself.

He’s never been interested in what the reasoning would reveal if he tried. But he missed her, and he’s sorry as he can possibly be without daring to take it back.

Igor switches the cross of his legs after a beat of silence, and as if on command, the two at his side straighten their shoulders to turn out to Yu almost imperceptibly, the atmosphere outside shifting in its flow just so. He clears his throat to speak, as if Yu hasn’t been waiting for his inevitable unadulterated opinion on the situation every night he’s slept here.

“A fundamental reversal is always bound to reveal certain anomalies,” Igor drawls, staring down the length of his nose and wrapping his steepled fingers together. “However, it also reveals its most stalwart consistencies. I wonder, are you perhaps emboldened by your most desperate actions being permanent now?”

Yu’s not surprised by that particular thinly-veiled insult, either. “I’m not exactly convinced moderation is the answer after twenty failed tries.”

The low neon lights of the room flash against Igor’s teeth like a shark in shallow waters. “The clock is ticking, but I assure you it is not so loud it need be the only master you obey.”

The allure of closing his eyes and forcing himself back to sleep is not new, but it has never been stronger. How pointless it would be to try is the only thing stopping him, regrettably, so he just sighs and puts a hand on his hip, the other rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “If you’re telling me it’s been over the top, I know that.”

“Oh?” Igor implores, and Yu could swear his head moves just a single mathematical degree to the side. “It would be rather wise, Trickster, to always have a method for the madness.”

Yu wouldn’t go so far as to call anything he’s done so far or plots himself doing out on some hypothetical horizon a method, he’s not that generous, and he’s half-convinced it’d just lock himself up in his own head to try. If he had to name it, it’d be that he thinks he knows him, and he’s been putting that one inclination above fact and reason for so long anything else would be counterintuitive. He knows how Adachi left earlier in the night, tired and drunk and calling him 'weird as shit, you know,' under his breath out the door, but flush with something suspiciously close to light behind his eyes, brief and flickering as it was.

He knows the way Adachi looked trying not to cry at Nanako’s bedside back in the hospital when he thought Yu hadn’t entered the room yet, the way he never really got over that he was there at their dinner table for months before first. He can’t pretend to know the weight of these first few nights in this town, but he knows they hung heavy, and he knows…

Maybe he just wants to do the things he was never there to do. Maybe he knows he can’t stop himself.

Maybe it’s all the same.

“I know what I’m doing,” Yu finally sighs, lost to just how long he let Igor’s words linger in the air before answering. “It doesn’t have to work yet.”

“Well.” Igor splays his hands out in front of him, long fingers open in a concession Yu has no hope of reading the intent of. “Then that’s all that matters.”

Naively, Yu hopes that for once they’re both telling each other the truth.

Chapter Text

Monday morning, Yu looks into his best friend’s eyes and prays this is the last time he’ll have to ask him this. “What’s your name?”

All this time later, that blank look devoid of recognition never fails to hurt. But this once, Yu tries to find something worth holding onto in it, and comes up with the way his eyes widen, just a hair, with the raise of his eyebrows when he says, “Yosuke Hanamura.”

“Good to meet you,” Yu says, because time and time again it’s the truth. It always is. “I’m Yu Narukami, I just transferred here from the city.”

Yosuke smiles through a wince, the kind Yu hates because it’s harsh at the corners of his face. Still, he returns it and steadies the handles of his bike gently so Yosuke can pull to his feet. The lock of his knee indicates he’s in more pain than Yu ever gave him credit for initially, but he should have known better. Whether or not he could have stopped the crash entirely, he’s here now and it’s too late, so before Yosuke can even reply, Yu offers, “Do you want to walk to school together?”

They can see it in the distance, it’s really not that far, but Yu banks on the idea he’ll say yes, because he does. “Yeah man, sure.”

He always does, because it’s always them. He wheels his yellow bike at his side and falls in line with Yu’s step, favoring his right foot, and Yu could draw the misshapen spikes of hair underneath his helmet from memory. There hasn’t been a single loop he hasn’t had him. Even if he was slow, or messed up the others, or tried to shut himself out and away from it all, it always ends up on a day like this sooner rather than later, two pairs of feet on concrete gravel, morning air through four lungs.

Organic or pre-ordained, Yosuke says, “I’m from the city, too. Transferred in myself about two months ago.”

“Yeah?” Yu asks just to ask it. A different sort of smile crawls up Yosuke’s face now, lopsided and unsteady, an unpracticed version of something so familiar. It feels like the sun. “Glad I’m not alone.”

Yosuke puts a hand to the back of his head, and Yu gets that tingling in his chest again, déjà vu-adjacent but wholly new to the experience of the past year, where he can’t decide if he’s been in this moment before or living it through anew, because it looks so green, so young. Yu watches Yosuke’s thumb trace a circle over the top knob of his spine before he glances back up, grins, “Yeah, me too.”

It’s the same stage and the same role as ever, and Yu plays it to a T when the scene changes and he has to feign his surprise at their shared homeroom and the serendipitous open desk, sliding behind Yosuke in perfect emulation of someone who thinks nothing of it at all.

Still, when Yosuke twists around to face him, Yu holds his eyes there with a blink, because it can’t be in his head alone and no. It isn’t.

Neither of them has ever been more relieved.

January, hold steady.

After school down by the riverfront, Marie asks what he’s doing and he doesn’t really know what to say to that.

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s sitting on the ground throwing rocks out into the water, face slumped in the crook of her hand. Yu does stop what he’s doing, though, which isn’t really more than staring out into the water, but it gives him pause all the same. He takes the easy way out, noncommittal. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, literally, what are you doing,” she clarifies, which really doesn’t change much of anything. She gets a single skip on a stone, which is better than what she’d been doing, but she still sighs in discontent. “Are you crazy or is this just what you do?”

Yu doesn’t really know how to answer that either, but he knows what the truth probably is. “Both, I think.”

He was relieved to see her late in the afternoon after finishing up at Aiya with Yosuke—a steady, familiar face in a sea of ever-changing constants, and getting the moment turned around on him doesn’t make him regret asking her down here. It’s to be expected, but he still feels peeled apart beneath her green eyes, completely clueless to her own whereabouts for the past year yet somehow able to see through him like polished glass.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Marie scoffs, peering at a particular rock she’s picked up in her hand before washing it underneath the river water and pocketing it, tossing the next one into the lake overhand. “There are things you’ve left unanswered, you know.”

Coming right out and telling him off would feel better, he thinks, but he doesn’t exactly have the right to ask for it. Maybe this is her way of saying that. “I know.”

“He’s not even a good person,” Marie follows up. She gets a little skip out of the next rock.

“I know,” Yu says, again. Like he or anyone else needs the reminder.

“Well,” Marie shrugs, returning to her search among the rocks for something flat and smooth, just as he taught her. He didn’t know it would be this refreshing, but a current swells in him at the sight of something in this town that’s moved along with him, someone who’s retained the shadows of time passed and learned. “As long as you know, I guess.”

He missed her too, so much. He really did. Minutes pass in silence, nothing but the sound of thin layers of ice cracking out across the river and the splash of rocks in the water, followed by the appropriate grunt of either disappointment or begrudging approval from the girl at his side.

Night’s beginning to fall, and it’s been itching at the back of Yu’s mind since he saw her by the Velvet Room door. He sits down on the dock and smiles soft when Marie looks up to see them almost eye to eye, her on the bank while he adjusts cross-legged on the wood.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, because he’s not sure there’s any other real way to say it. “I didn’t know what to do. It felt like so much time was running out at once. On so many things.”

Marie’s quiet for a minute at that, picking a stick out of the riverbed and swirling patterns in the water at her feet through the gentle current, back and forth. He wonders if she’s spelling something, some curse or confession, but she’s staring out into the cracks in the ice, somewhere off in the middle distance.

When she speaks, it’s as slow and winding as the stream. “I get it, I think.”

It doesn’t quite inspire relief, so he continues on anyway. “I knew I could get to you,” he explains, not really knowing if it’s true, but only in the way he can never be sure of anything in the future. It’s always felt assured, whenever he’s thought about it, but he’s not sure if that’s really the strength of their bond informing his intuition or if nothing’s happened yet to threaten the solidity of that notion. Adachi never felt certain. Neither did lots of things. “But there was no fixing this by going forward.”

“By this, you mean him,” she clarifies, and Yu nods, unsure if she sees it out of the corner of her eye. She continues on anyway, so it’s just as well. “I’m lucky I wasn’t here to see the first few hundred tries. I heard you were real stupid.”

Yu exhales through his nose, short and non-committal, as a form of tacit agreement. Underneath the cracks in the dock, he sees a silver fish glisten under the water’s surface, a breath of life in the winter cold.

“I would have stayed, you know,” he whispers after too long of a pause, transfixed on the creature beneath him. “I wouldn’t have left if everyone wasn’t going to be safe.”

The sun’s starting to set over the mountains in the distance, creeping darkness shrouding the bank in a gnawing chill by degrees, and Yu finds himself, as always, in awe of how Marie never seems to feel it, legs bare to the world beneath her thin tights and not even a wince on her face to betray a reaction. Yu feels cold all the time out here, lately, but she’s always been something different. The curiosity for what has never really been lost on him, he has to believe that, but it feels lit anew now, burning like a small candle inside him.

Reaching down to the side of the bank underneath the dock, he pulls a rock out of the pile for himself, smoothing out the sand that clings to it. Marie glances over for just a fraction of a second before turning back out to the water. “I don’t know why I wasn’t there before, or why I’m here now. I don’t know where I went. I’m so sick of it.”

Saying it doesn’t make it better, but he has to. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“But, hey.” With a sigh, she switches the cross of her legs and leans back onto her palms, the strap of her shoulder bag pooling across her chest as she looks up to the sky, painted with wintertime greys and streaks of pink. “This change affected me. That has to mean something, right?”

“Right,” he agrees, shaky, hopeful. He looks up at the sky, too, now that his fish has ducked back deep underneath the ice, and wonders if he has the time to stay here and watch it melt away into the night if he wanted. There hasn’t been that time in so long, it seems, but he wants it now. Needs it, even. “I’ll figure it out. We will. I promise.”

Marie just hums and goes back to tracing her stick circles in the water, but her eyes stay up, unreadable and green. “Just like you’ll figure him out?”

Yu doesn’t know what to say that won’t incriminate him further or dig another hole neither of them needs to travel down tonight, so he just says, “Yeah.”

The first of the stars are beginning to peek through the clouds now, and Yu remembers that he taught her their names, once. He wonders if that’s what she’s doing now, trying to recall them and catalogue where her eyes scan over the clouds. It’s silent as death, but it always is out here, the flow of the river and the low hum of breeze drowning out whatever meager noise the town generates trapped behind the hill. His own little world.

“I just have one question,” she says after what could be minutes, considering that when Yu blinks his attention back down, it’s several shades darker taking her in than when he turned up. “Why him?”

It’s jarring to have asked himself the same thing every single day but never heard it said out loud until now, and it throws him, Yu catching himself on the heels of his palms to lean back and let it wash over him. It’s the question that pounds at the back of his head like a migraine through his waking and unwaking hours, but he fumbles around the syllables of it now, unable to conjure any of the answers left undefined and half-finished in his haste. None of them feel sufficient, let alone honest.

He looks her in the eye and tries anyway. “I think we both easily could have been each other, if things were different.”

He has his defense, a half-smile and a readied stone, up and poised before she even says what he knows she will. “Yeah, no. You’re not… whatever that is.”

He curls his lip up to match her upturned nose, tossing the rock up once, twice in his hand.

“Maybe not,” he levels, even though he doesn’t agree at all. With a hum, he rolls his wrist for practice, relishing in the familiar crack of the joints. “But I know what being alone can do to someone.”

There’s an audible snap when he sends the stone skimming across the top of the river, cutting sharp waves into the surface with breaking speed. It hits open water three times before skidding to a halt on the ice cloaking the other side, and Marie exhales a held breath at the sight.

“No fair,” she objects, crossing at her ankles with a huff and pulling herself slowly to her feet, adjusting the hair underneath her hat as she looks somewhere over Yu’s shoulder. “You’re cheating.”

She meets him head-on when he pulls himself up too and crosses over to her side, a look in her eyes that is, in her own familiar way, both guarded and fond, judgmental and curious. He meets it how he always does, palms upturned at his side and an expression as open as he knows how to make with the hope she’ll find something she recognizes of herself inside.

“How so?” Yu asks, even though he has a pretty good idea.

Marie just looks at him like he’s stupid and walks back up the hill, which is fair.

It’s probably better than the truth.

It smells like fried eggs and fresh snow in the morning, Yu stirring early from a combination of light noise from downstairs and still-buzzing leftover adrenaline that pulls him up and out of bed within minutes. Down the stairs, he listens for voices, but he supposes even with no murder case, he should know better than that. Dojima’s jacket is missing from the hallway coat rack and the only sound wafting from the kitchen is the drone of morning talk TV and the sizzle of oil in a pan, and when Yu pads down the rest of the stairs, he can hear Nanako hum.

He lingers in the hall between the stairs and the kitchen for an extra second to make out the tune, an old nursery rhyme. The sound makes him adrift in his body again, caught in the yellow glow of a space that might as well be just as lost in time as the Velvet Room and woven tight in a spinning thread of circumstance that leaves him just off-center of where he’s come to expect to be. It’s been so long living like a rewinding movie reel, turning back on different takes of the same lines, that the foreign melody leaves him degaussed, the reliable images of what he does next fracturing into glass splinters beneath his feet.

Even without the script, the roles are still intact, but he feels dizzy in the still-darkened window light of the kitchen, like an intruder trapped in a body double close to his own but not quite the original. He stops himself just short of projecting that dissociation onto Nanako, who seems wholly herself in her early morning pajama pants and school dress combo as she diligently babysits two open-faced eggs in the pan, toast and jam already prepared on two separate plates. There’s no reason she wouldn’t be, of course.

It’s such a tired time-travel cliche, he thinks, the phenomenon of something as simple as a butterfly flapping its wings having the potential to shift the entire course of events echoes down the line. Still, he’s reminded by moments like this that, true or not, he’s doing something well beyond that magnitude.

He’s never heard her sing anything but commercials, pop songs, children’s songs, things of that ilk—she must not know he’s here, or more accurately, she’s not used to his presence yet enough to remember she’s no longer alone. He expects it to sound sad, but it doesn’t. It’s nostalgic, maybe, but perfunctory, Nanako searching and finding every note before sliding into the next.

He could listen to it for hours, but he can’t linger much longer before he knows she’ll notice, so he asks, “Can I help at all?”

“Oh!” She jumps just a little, spatula slipping between her fingers before she manages to catch it. It aches to see her shoulders slouch into herself and even more to watch her lips fall into a silent line, but he tries not to think about it. It’s bad for his health. “I didn’t know you were awake yet.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles, taking his first tentative steps into the kitchen proper. “It’s a little earlier than normal. What are you making?”

Nanako gestures with a shrug to the pan, cheeks alight with blotches of pink that match her dress. “Eggs, if that’s okay. I was gonna save yours, but you’re here now.”

Without the buffer of Dojima, she’s always harder to crack at first like this, and Yu knows all too well the mistakes he’s made in his haste, the way pushing her too close has made her retreat in the past. How in trying to pull too far he’s made the gap all the harder to bridge. There are so many ways it can be done right, though, but there’s something hard and heavy caught in his throat that makes it nerve-wracking to try and locate one now when he longs for her smile all the more.

Weighing his options, he crosses the room to her side and observes the pan from a respectable distance. “Looks great, I didn’t know I’d be living with a chef.”

“I can’t cook much.” She reddens at that, too, but there’s a little upward pull of her cheeks hiding beneath her pigtails. “Just eggs and some meat, if it’s already cut up. I’m not allowed to use the knife.”

She flips the eggs with a practiced expertise, and in all the time he’s lived here, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Nanako mess one up, but he’s sure it would be delicious even if she did. He lets his eyes wander across the countertop, a bit disappointed he’s come down so late in the process, but he lands on the four remaining eggs in the carton she’s pulled out and feels his own gears start turning. “Have you made your lunch yet?”

Nanako shakes her head. “Nuh uh.”

“Let’s make rice bowls,” Yu suggests as Nanako deposits one of the eggs on each plate. “We can eat breakfast then cook before we leave, they’re quick. I’ll show you my favorite recipe.”

“Really?” Nanako asks, quiet with wide eyes, stuck in that space between craving connection and still unsure if it’s fully safe to approach. When he nods, she loosens just a bit. “I’d love to!”

Over breakfast, they watch the weather. There’s heavy rain scheduled for next week, and he feels his chest sink at the sight, a hard drop punctuated by how little he knows about what it means this time around. He tries not to let the shake of his hand show as he eats, but Nanako seems oblivious to it anyway, staring out the porch door at a bird on the backyard tree.

Afterward, they clean up, and Yu reminds himself to ask Nanako where the rice cooker is at the last second before reaching for it himself. He talks out loud as he goes through the motions, Nanako flitting at his side like a pixie, asking questions here and there but mostly nodding and retrieving the ingredients he requests. With an eye on the time, he preps a handful of various vegetables and a bit of leftover beef, letting Nanako cut the carrots with his hand over the knife to guide her, much to her delight.

It’s not until it’s time to take up the rice that Nanako comments on how it seems to be far more than what can serve two people, and in response, Yu just smiles and cracks the first two eggs into a pan. “Well, then we’ll have to take some to a friend.”

Nanako taps the countertop, thoughtful. “I have a friend at school who seems hungry a lot. I should take some to her.”

“That’s a great idea,” Yu smiles, before directing Nanako to fish out some tupperware containers. He divides the rice and vegetables evenly into four boxes and slides the eggs into the two closest to him when they’re done before cracking the remaining open to cook. “I have someone I want to get closer to, so I’ll share it with him.”

“Good,” she decides, definitive as ever. “I wanna cook my eggs, then.”

Yu gratefully moves aside at her declaration and hands her the spatula, trying to hide the naked look of fondness that falls across his face over the fear it’ll be just a degree too open, too visceral to be natural, even to her eyes. It’s hard to fight, though, and he’s sure she catches it once she turns to finish plating the remaining boxes, eggs perfect as ever.

In the remaining few minutes before they have to leave, Yu kneels down on the kitchen floor and gently helps pack Nanako’s lunches in her backpack, careful as he arranges her books not to fold any of the wayward pieces of paper sticking out.

“Well,” Yu raises his to his feet and adjusts his own bag. “Then I think we’re all set for the day.”

It’s pure reflex when he holds out his hand, but to his surprise, Nanako takes it anyway.

He doesn’t bring lunch to Adachi. But he does think about it. However, despite what Igor thinks, he is capable of some sense of moderation. Occasionally.

So he does what he says he will, which is what he thought of first anyway, and takes it to school. During composition, he taps Yosuke on the back of his shoulder, wincing at the way he turns around with his whole body in a fittingly brilliant display of conspicuousness. Gently, Yu pushes his shoulder back to face front while whispering, “I brought extra of my lunch. Want to share some?”

Yosuke has the sense to twist only his head back this time, a little sheepish, a lot of open-faced surprise, lips parted and brows furrowed even in a wide arch. “Me?”

There’s no one else it could possibly be, at least as far as Yosuke could be concerned, but that’s always been part of his charm. “Yeah, you.”

“Sweet,” he grins, voice edged with no small amount of confusion fighting for space with that charmingly unadulterated enthusiasm. “Count me in.”

Underneath the desk, Yu swings his foot out to tap Yosuke’s calf, lest either of them gets called out for talking. He doesn’t know about Yosuke for sure, but he has a feeling both of their first weeks were embarrassing enough without extra reasons to be put under the wrong spotlight.

Still, out of the corner of Yosuke’s face in front of him, Yu swears he can see a smile. He knows he’s wearing one himself.

Lunch swings around and Yosuke turns his whole desk to face his, watching with his chin propped on crossed arms as Yu procures the two boxes of rice from his bag. It’s too cold for the roof by a mile—there was a point in November and December in the original line where they bore it anyway, but by then there were too many of them who weren’t in their class, and it had become so indelibly their spot it was worth the cold to maintain their claim to it. Here, though, there’s no reason to subject themselves to that, so Yu hands Yosuke a pair of spare chopsticks from his bag as well.

“This looks great dude,” Yosuke exclaims, a thankful bit of steam still rising up when he opens the lid. Yu opens his own, and he has to admit, it does. “Did you make it?”

“My little cousin and I, yeah,” Yu replies, cutting into the egg with his chopsticks to break it up as he prefers. His original Yosuke always used to make fun of him for it, and he can’t decide if it hurts or helps that the one in front of him raises an eyebrow, but stays silent. “There were an odd amount of eggs, so I made more than we needed.”

“Well, thanks.” Yosuke puts a piece of beef between his teeth, and Yu swears he sees a band of red across his cheekbones. It’s gone when he swallows it down, the color left just on the tip of his nose. “It’s been a while since I…”

Yu thinks he knows the end to that sentence, or at least a few things it could be. It’s been a while since he’s had a home-cooked meal, been a while since someone’s reached out to him like this, been a while since he’s made a friend, been a while since… But Yosuke never gets to finish it, and Yu runs out of time to ruminate on it, because the reason he’s faded out announces herself soon enough with a flash of green and yellow.

“Oooh, what’s that?” Chie asks, Yu turning to see her and Yukiko now up from their desks and standing above them, thick as thieves in their complementary colorful ensembles. He’s not sure what he expected, but it’s a relief to see them the same as they ever were, their stances and cadence so familiar. They left right after school yesterday before he even got a chance to do anything but stare at the back of their heads, and Yu tries to swallow down whatever the sound of her voice makes him feel. She looks away from the beef belatedly, like she’s only just now realized someone else is here. “Oh, hey, aren’t you the transfer student?”

“That’s me,” Yu replies, teasing at a piece of carrot. “I made rice bowls. Want to try a bite?”

Yosuke’s face pales and he shoves two pieces of beef into his mouth on reflex, speaking inelegantly between them. “Don't do that, dude.”

With a pleasant nod of acknowledgment, Yu puts two pieces of his own beef between his chopsticks and holds them out. Chie honestly looks like she’s about to take it with her bare hands, which wouldn’t surprise him, but Yukiko pivots back to their desks in a flash and hands Chie her set of chopsticks, plastic with little stylized action sound effect kanji at the top. She rolls her eyes and takes the meat from Yu, sizing him up and down shamelessly before putting it to her mouth.

She chews once, twice, then exclaims, as loud as Yu is accustomed to from her yet still jarring him out of his skin, “Hell yeah! Now that’s some meat!”

Yu beams, because no one in the world is a better barometer for his carnivorous-based cooking than her. He’s about to reply, something about the marinade, when Chie reaches over to slap him open-hand on the back, chopsticks nearly stabbing straight to the back of his mouth. “Good going, new kid!”

He goes to mutter his thanks, but once again it’s swallowed up before it begins with Yukiko’s soft, but firm request of, “May I try a few carrots?”

She’s always so shy at the start, so tight to Chie’s shadow, and Yu’s long past losing count of how many times today he’s had to fight a reaction too strong for the moment since this morning, but this is one of the harder ones to bite the corners of his lips down on. Still, Yukiko’s smile is kind as she takes it, and widens at the taste. “Thank you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, a familiar scene starts to play out: Chie looming ever closer to a Yosuke clutching his lunchbox ever tighter to his chest. As practiced as if they never left, Yu and Yukiko remain motionless on the other side, watching quietly from their vantage points as it unfolds.

“You know,” Chie drawls, a hand on her hip while the other twirls her chopsticks between her fingers. “You totally owe me for that math homework the other week.”

“It was one time!” Yosuke combs the rice bed for as much remaining meat as his chopsticks can hold, barely intelligible when he continues speaking. Yu’s known him long enough to figure it out, though. “Half your answers weren’t even right.”

“It’s still cheating.” Chie’s clearly known him long enough for that as well, but it still leaves Yu wondering just how acquainted Yosuke was with the two of them before he came around. He’s never been able to tell for sure.

“You let me!” Yosuke objects, noisily swallowing his remaining beef and unable to make more than an offended garble of noises when Chie reaches in to grab a spare piece he’d missed. When he’s able to speak, he sputters, “No fair, this is a gift!”

“Is it?” Chie looks back at Yu with a tilt of her head, not so much judgment as it is full surprise, but she wears them the same in her countenance.

Yu holds up his hands in acquiescence, fishing out two more pieces of carrot to spare for Yukiko just to even the playing field. She takes them with grace, and he tactfully ignores the holes Chie’s burning in his own box. “I’ll bring something for you two tomorrow, if you really want it to be fair.”

Chie gives a long, thoughtful hum, crossing her arms and leaning back against an empty desk, tapping her cheek in thought. “You know, it’s really Yosuke that has something to make up to me.”

Subtle as possible, Yu reaches for another piece of meat and turns it over a little in the light of the window before putting it between his teeth, taking each bite slow and doing his best to act ignorant to the heat of her focus.

“It can be from both of us,” Yosuke insists, looking back to Yu with wild eyes for his approval, which he gives with a tilt of his head and a barely-there wink. Yosuke seems to catch it, though, lips turning up in an uneven line. “Then we’re even, right?”

Another hum from Chie, this one at a distinctly higher pitch and much shorter before falling off. “Make steak skewers.”

“Be sure to include a good vegetable medley,” Yukiko pipes up, cementing that these two have always been and always will be best friends.

Once upon a time, this might have annoyed him, but right now, at this moment, in this timeline, it’s never felt more like a victory. “You’re on.”

All three of them are occupied after school—Yosuke with Junes, Yukiko with the Inn, and Chie with Yukiko, leaving Yu, once again, to his own devices.

His own devices, as they frequently do, find him heading back down towards the river. He crosses through the shopping district first and takes his time as he passes through, moving slow to peer through the windows. There’s a slight young man shelving bottles at the liquor store, but no sign of the textile shop owner’s son inside that storefront. He has to stop himself from lingering at the Marukyu with the reminder of snow fresh on the ground, and the shrine is too crowded with people to call the fox out yet. It’s disappointing, though it’s far from the first time he’s wandered these streets wanting too much too soon. But compared to the vibrancy of the day, he can’t help but feel a bit dimmed as he turns towards the floodplain, the quiet of Inaba sinking in his bones.

From the relative bustle of the shopping center, the floodplain is serene. The chill keeps out most of its usual denizens, and the already-setting sun only contributes to its stillness, any of its potential warmth already long trapped behind the clouds. Besides the odd mother and child heading towards the park or middle-aged man smoking under the shade of a tree, the only thing he can hear is the echo of his own footsteps. It certainly lends him a clear ear to anything that disrupts the silence—like the distinct crack of ice over the river.

Leisurely, he makes his way past the line of trees that obscure the riverbank below, but takes the steps down it two at a time when he sees the source: a thin man with a mop of haphazard black hair and dark grey peacoat facing away from him at the water’s edge. Yu slows at the end of the staircase, hands in his pockets, and crosses up towards the shore.

“Are you off-duty?” Yu tries to make his voice as smooth and unobtrusive as possible, but Adachi still jumps at the sound, shoulders wiring together as he reels to face him, staggering backward a few steps.

“Jesus, kid,” Adachi huffs, adjusting the lay of his tie beneath his open jacket. Yu tries not to stare into his bloodshot eyes, tries to pretend instead like he cares more about how his tie still isn’t straight even though it never will be. “It’s creepy to sneak up on a guy.”

“Sorry,” Yu shrugs, even though he’s not. Adachi’s face is flushed from the cold but pales with embarrassment, a little trick of the weather Yu has to blink away his fascination with, flickering his eyes over to the water and back. “I come down here a lot.”

Adachi stares at him, a second or so passing over his frozen expression before he seems to remember Yu’s question, shrugging. His coat is the smallest size they had in the store, but even it seems to be just a little too broad for Adachi’s shoulders, falling lopsided over his neck before he reaches up to adjust it. “Nah, I’m on the clock.”

Yu presses his lips into a line, stretching it across his chilled cheeks. “That’s a shame.”

With another adjustment of his collar, Adachi slips a degree further into his practiced slouch, scratching at the side of his face with cold-cracked fingers. Yu makes a mental note to buy him gloves, or at least decent lotion. It hasn’t slipped his notice Adachi’s other hand hasn’t left his pocket.

“I’m on an assignment,” Adachi sighs, but it comes out too harsh between his teeth to quite be believably authentic. His brows fall into such harsh, pressed lines when they furrow, like he’s fighting their fall and trying to soften them up without quite succeeding. Yu wants to trace it. He wishes, deliriously, he already had. “My first one, yippie.”

It’s hard not to laugh, because he shouldn’t and it’s rude without context, but the absolutely bare sarcasm masquerading as sincere joy is just so alien and bizarre Yu has to hide his reaction behind his scarf, playing it off as a cough. It’s beyond him how no one else can see it, and Yu doesn’t know if it’s revisionist history at this point, but it feels like he’s always been able to catch him out. In moments like this, at least.

“I bet it’s something real exciting,” Yu drawls as he kicks at a rock underneath his feet, shiny and pink. He looks up at Adachi under his bangs in an attempt to convey his own humor, and relief floods over him like river water when Adachi scoffs and twitches out a smile. “Let me guess, helping old ladies cross the road?”

Adachi won’t give him his real laugh, not yet and maybe not ever, but he’ll settle just fine for the one that erupts when something takes him off guard by striking him just so, like a clattering of jagged rocks torn from his throat. It’s ugly, and Yu wants it on loop. As always, though, it ends too soon.

“Yeah, pretty close.” Adachi shoves his other hand back in his pocket too, leaning back on his heels. “I gotta find a lost cat. Because apparently that’s an effective use of police force in this town.”

The ‘what a joke’ that almost certainly follows in his head is projected so strongly from other moments in their dynamic where he’d just say it out loud, but it’s just a ghost on the wind in this one, so Yu does the work for him. “Wow, I guess this place really is that boring.”

“Tell me about it.” Adachi tosses his head back, more dramatic than Yu’s sure he intends, greasy fringe falling across his eyes. He makes another note for a better shampoo; he knows which ones have worked from other trials. Yu thought it would be a harder sell than it historically has ended up being. “I thought the police were here to solve crimes, not do petty chores for housewives.”

“Have you found it?” Yu offers, because if he knows Adachi—and in his best moments he thinks he at least understands enough—he’s about ten seconds away from the realization he’s maybe shown too much and smoothing it over with a forced laugh, so hollow and unlike the one he wants to keep freshest in his mind. So he opts out of that part of the schtick, relishing in Adachi’s head turning back down to him inch by inch.

“Well, wouldn’t be out here if I had, right?” Adachi still chuckles at that in a tone Yu doesn’t love, but he’ll take it, because it at least has the decency to edge itself with a sadness he recognizes deep within the folds of forced cheer. It’s short and ends quickly, which is also a mercy. “It’s supposedly around here but I’ve been at it for hours. I don’t even wanna think about Dojima’s reaction if I come back from my first assignment empty-handed, though, so here I am.”

“I think I have an idea.” Yu pretends to ponder this for much longer than he does in reality, but when the appropriate amount of time has passed, he reaches into his bag and pulls out a small tackle box from the back compartment and the fold-up pole he keeps tucked in there beside it, lowering down into the rock on one knee to arrange them.

“What is that?” Adachi asks with a curl of his nose, reminding Yu once again that Adachi, the perpetual city-boy he is, has never gone fishing in his life—until whenever Yu takes him.

“Cats are food-motivated.” Yu looks up for only a blink before turning down to open the tackle box and thread the line through a hook, resting his pole on the edge of his knee as he works. It may not be the exact cat he’s thinking of, but he readies some of his best bait over the hook anyway, tying off the line with a practiced flourish before opening up the pole to its full length and rising to his feet. “So, you’re more likely to catch it if you have something it wants.”

Instead of reacting to any of that, Adachi just looks between Yu and the pole in his hand several times before he mutters the inevitable, “You fish?”

“Yeah.” Yu offers a grin over his shoulder as he steps up onto the docks, scanning the water for movement underneath the open patches free of ice. “It’s really calming, actually.”

Adachi gives a small click of his tongue at that, but takes a few measures steps closer to the docks anyway, hovering just slightly in Yu’s periphery. “I don’t know how killing something can be calming, but sure.”

It’s the funniest thing Adachi’s said all loop, but somehow, it’s a little bit easier to resist laughing out loud this time around. “It’s more about the experience.”

Yu casts the line out into a patch of deep blue and reels out the excess slack, and just the feeling of the pole’s weight in his hands sends a jet of calm up through his hands; his heart rate, which he wasn’t even aware had been elevated, slows down to match the swaying pull of the water on the line. He feels rather than sees Adachi’s eyes follow him, and for a moment, he wonders if he’ll even dignify that with a reply, or just wait until he manages to catch something.

“The experience, huh,” Adachi mutters after several moments of quiet, Yu staring at the blobs of movement under the water moving closer and closer to his line. “Of what?”

Just then, something tugs sharp at his line, and Yu moves into position, bracing himself through his feet as he pulls back and reels it in. Despite himself, he ignores the shadow of Adachi moving ever closer to him and instead narrows in on the patterns of the fish, fighting until the stopper hits the top of his pole and he can pull his line the rest of the way out of the water. There’s a moderately sized, gloriously colored trout on the other end, and Yu relishes in the familiar rush of accomplishment that flows through him, gesturing back to Adachi with a jerk of his head.

“There’s a thing that looks like a link of thick chain in the box down there.” Yu tries to indicate in the vague direction of it with his elbow. “Can you grab that for me?”

Over his shoulder, Adachi’s face pales several shades. “It’s not covered in fish guts, right?”

“It’s clean.” Yu doesn’t quite resist the urge to roll his eyes, but he’s not sure Adachi notices. “It’s just so I can wash it off in the water and make sure it doesn’t die slowly.”

“Well, at least there’s that.” Adachi mutters something else after that Yu doesn’t catch, but he gets the piece of equipment with little outward complaint. The brush of Adachi’s hands in his open palm as he hands it over is like strangely clammy sandpaper. Gloves and lotion both, he decides.

Yu thanks him, and adds, “You don’t have to watch.”

Adachi takes him at his word with a pivot on his heel and doesn’t turn back around until Yu has returned to the tackle box with clean fish in hand, Yu gently placing it on a spare bandana he keeps inside. When he does, Yu’s holding a small knife and stares at him blankly until Adachi looks away again, pretending to be very interested in the sway of a nearby tree.

After he’s cut the meat into small pieces placed in a ziplock with the rest sealed up in a miniature compost bag, he rises to his feet and falls back at Adachi’s side, and only then does Adachi dare to look his way this time.

“The gross part’s over,” Yu assures, and Adachi tries and miserably fails to look convinced of that enough to fool him. Others maybe would be, but even in the times he’s gotten Adachi to tolerate being out here with him, he’s always hated this part. It makes him nauseous on the best days, and Yu can see a tinge of green to him even now, though his face is turned up to hide it. With everything else put away, Yu opens up the ziplock of meat, holding it out to Adachi who takes it with nothing but his fingernails as if it might explode. “If the cat really is close to here, you can scatter a few pieces around and it should come to you.”

“Uh,” Adachi stares into the bag, looking slightly sweaty but mostly just blank, a hard edge to his eyes Yu knows by now is confusion edged with annoyance, but Yu knows well enough not to take it personally. “Thanks, kid.”

“Don’t mention it.” Yu smiles and packs up the rest of his box, holding onto the scraps for the compost bin by the park up the stairs. When his bag is slung over his shoulder, he makes his way back towards the top of the floodplain, sending a pleasant look over his shoulder like he has no idea what he’s just done. In a way, maybe he doesn’t. “Like I said, I love fishing.”

Yu tries not to think too hard about the expression he leaves behind on Adachi’s face: a little raw, a lot of lost. It’ll just make him miss something he’s not supposed to have known yet.

Later, when Dojima exclaims his surprise at the city rookie completing his first backwater town assignment, Yu does a fantastic job of acting like he has no idea what he’s talking about.

Sometimes, he’s a better actor than he gives himself credit for. If he has to pretend through these first parts, that’s fine. He can pretend.

There might just be something worth waiting for on the other side.

Chapter Text

The clouds loom in ever closer over Inaba, and Yu tries not to panic.

It’s easier said than done, at least from his vantage point. From the outside, none of his newly reacquainted friends seem to think anything’s awry, which he’ll take as a victory, but on the inside, his anxiety over the weather report is on a constant low boil, ever threatening to spill over.

No one’s heard of the Midnight Channel yet, or at least Chie hasn’t heard of it, which Yu figures is as good a barometer as any for the town’s current gossip. He even prods her about it, vaguely, when the four of them meet up at Junes at the end of their second week together, but it doesn’t seem to ring any bells, and even Yu’s tame description of TVs and rain earns a raised eyebrow from Saki Konishi as she whisks by on her way back from break. Yosuke waves at her with a wild enthusiasm that isn’t returned, and Yu makes another mark on the T-chart he’s drawn in his mind, one column for what’s the same, another for what’s different. The ratio isn’t exactly comforting, but he's not sure what would be at this point.

“Why would I look into a TV when it’s off?” Chie laughs, leaning precariously far back for the flimsy Junes plastic patio chairs and chewing her straw in the side of her mouth, hot cider long finished. This earns a laugh from Yukiko as well, small and hidden entirely behind her hand, followed by another long sip of her own drink.

Yu’s chest hurts. “I have no idea.”

He’d really like to find out one of these days.

Either way, it looks like he’s on his own. At least for the first rain, which is scheduled for the start of next week where mid-January will have bled firmly into late. The idea of the passage of time is less than a comfort—it feels like he got here yesterday still for all that he’s accomplished. His friends are here, sure, but they never take too long, and Adachi…

He’s been trying to give him space since the riverbank, but it feels impossible. Wherever he goes, it seems like whatever cosmic pull that keeps their paths connected makes him follow, atoms crashing over and over in a cruel magnetic field experiment. It’s not always Yu doing the colliding, either. For every time Yu wanders to Junes only to find Adachi wasting time out by the produce vendors, there’s another they make unintentional eye contact from across the food court when Yu’s with Yosuke after school. Yu may cajole him into staying after dinner for a drink or two on occasion, but it’s Dojima that decides to bring him over, more frequently than Yu remembers. But they had a murder case when he was around, and for all he knows, the beginning was different. From the brief snippets Yu’s garnered, though, Dojima seems to harp on him just the same.

The unavoidable fact is that he's everywhere, and it’s not even his feverish efforts to blame this time. Maybe it was always like this, maybe it’s just his permanence here that’s causing it to stand out more in his mind, but it feels suffocating. Taunting, even. Adachi’s at the gas station, at the floodplain, lingering outside of Tatsumi Textiles, walking home through snow in beat-up sneakers. He’s in his living room, in his kitchen, he’s…

He’s on the nightly news.

It’s Sunday night and Dojima’s at work late, something he does infrequently enough, in comparison to later, that Nanako still thinks to comment on it. The reason why is obvious enough when the local news starts up at the top of the hour, and the cameras turn to a story at the Inaba police station.

It’s not about anything important, just the usual fluff pieces this place had to cover before anything real started to happen, something about the community service programs, maybe, but all comprehension goes out the window when a slight man in a grey peacoat shows up in front of the microphone.

His put-upon TV personality is somehow even worse than his normal one, voice pitched up even higher, an even slimier, fake-light tonal drawl and a laugh like scraping nails. Yu doesn’t absorb the words, barely remembers to absorb the tightness in his crow’s feet for all he can force himself to look away from the banner across the bottom of the secret. Tohru Adachi—Rookie Detective.

The truth—and Yu doesn’t even know who Adachi has and hasn’t told, if anyone—is that he’s not a rookie. He was a detective for almost two years before he was transferred, and Yu can’t help but wonder if ‘rookie’ is what Adachi told the reporter, what the station told them, or what was contextually assumed. Even if it was his own idea, Yu can’t imagine he’s too happy about it. He doubts he’ll even watch it, unless Dojima makes him.

But Yu is, and so are households all over Inaba, each undoubtedly wondering about the story behind this unfamiliar, fresh-faced detective.

He doesn’t quite feel like finishing his dinner anymore, but he can’t leave Nanako here. Staring at the screen any longer isn’t an option either, so he nudges Nanako underneath the kotatsu and offers, “Wanna play cards?”

She lights up at that and nods, hopping up to put away the rest of Yu’s plate as leftovers while he runs upstairs to fish out a few stacks of playing cards from his shelves, grateful to have a way to kill time now that there’s a weightless feeling of dread carrying him through his steps. Despite himself, he pauses in front of the TV and stares at his own reflection in the shiny convex surface, squinting at the blackness until his own frame starts to warp and change, static blurring over his own familiar features into something left of real, just off of himself.

He blinks down hard, shakes his mind clear, and heads back downstairs.

The rain comes on Tuesday, and it comes hard.

It starts as a drizzle on his way to school, but by the time class is dismissed, it’s a downpour, pattering thick, wet drops on the windowpane loud enough that the four of them have to stand close to Yu’s desk to hear each other over it. It’s dark, both with the receding daylight and thick, black clouds, and to Yu’s dismay, none of them are eager to stick around or offer up plans—both Yukiko and Yosuke have work, and Chie studies at the Inn on these kinds of days, leaving Yu once again to his own devices.

The walk to the shopping district leaves him unpleasantly wet even with his umbrella, waterproof boots muddy with slush from the battered remains of snow and hair damp with humidity. He’s not exactly sure where he’s headed at first, just that he knows he can’t waste his time at home yet for his own sanity, but he gets his answer soon enough when his inconspicuous peering into the textile shop finally, finally, yields the result he’s looking for.

Coming to a stop on the sidewalk, he has to fight the grin that threatens to break across his face at the sight of the boy behind the counter, shock blonde hair and tattered jacket standing out like a signal flare between the rows of delicate fabrics. If it weren’t for the rain, Yu is sure he could hear his voice clear through the door. There’s still the low drone of it now, tense and impassioned from the sound. It isn’t the first time he’s walked in on this sort of thing as a relative stranger though, so he folds his umbrella and ducks inside.

Sure enough, he’s caught the tail end of what seems like a familiar argument—Kanji with a poor attempt at steel-faced resolve that can’t hide the deep, vulnerable worry etched underneath his brows, and his mother with an equally transparent display of the same. Like mother, like son. Out of all of his friends, the way Kanji’s arc swings back and forth each time sinks Yu’s heart the most, knowing how deep the schism between them rests and how easily it stitches itself back together with even the slightest push. But Yu can’t provide that now, nor can he beg against the patchwork front they both wrestle to put up at the sound of the bell.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Tatsumi,” Yu greets, biting down a flinch at the way Kanji shirks away from him. His fists are balled as he stands awkwardly at his mother’s side, probably wondering if he has the angle to make a run for it. “Are you enjoying the rain?”

“Hello, Mr. Narukami.” She returns his smile and it’s barely even tight at the edges, smooth and professional. “It seems lovely from in here.”

He’s been back several times since he bought the coat for Adachi, usually to pick up odds and ends for others in his life as a pretense, but mostly just as an excuse to talk to her. The goal was always to run into Kanji here, of course, but in truth, he just likes her company. She’s kind and sturdy, wise and sensitive, and so much like her son that Yu loves her just the same. She’s charmed by him, so she entertains it gladly, and her newfound warmth is, Yu knows from practice, the only reason Kanji seems to decide against bolting. For now, at least.

He gives a small laugh and taps his boots free of mud and debris, shaking off the stray rainwater from his jacket. After a beat of silence made tense only by the leftover energy between her and Kanji, Mrs. Tatsumi clears her throat and asks, “What brings you in?”

Yu hasn’t thought this out beforehand, but now, the answer seems obvious. “A new pair of gloves.”

Kanji shifts again at her side, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at him with wide eyes until Yu dares to meet them and he sinks back into a scowl, almost like he’s forgotten that’s the expression he’s supposed to be wearing. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but before it can come out, Mrs. Tatsumi rises to her feet.

“I actually just made a few new designs,” she explains, adjusting one of her meticulously-placed hairpins. Kanji sinks back against the counter wall, scratching at his neck. “One moment, please.”

She disappears into the storeroom, leaving Yu and Kanji alone in the quiet shop with only the sound of rain and the low tape of meditative music Mrs. Tatsumi keeps on in the background between them.

He has only seconds, if that, so Yu cuts to the chase. “I haven’t seen you around before. Do you go to Yasogami High?”

Kanji snorts out his nose, ungraceful, and wipes at his face with a pointed, practiced glare. “What’s it to you?”

“Don’t be rude, Kanji,” Mrs, Tatsumi chides, voice laced with something sharp that makes Kanji draw his arms in tighter to himself, scoffing as he looks away. “I’m sorry about my son. He’ll be starting there in spring, won’t you?”

She stares at him in silence for long, painful seconds until he grunts through his teeth. “Yeah.”

“Cool,” Yu smiles, careful not to let it twitch when it isn’t returned. It’ll take a while for that yet. “I’ll see you around, then. What’d you bring out?”

Seeming to just now remember the three pairs of gloves in her hand, Mrs. Tatsumi turns with a start to set them all out on the counter, one after another. They’re all quite similar, though one has longer fingers than another, the materials seem to differ slightly, and another has a narrower wrist, but they all come in black. She must have noticed that’s the only color gloves he wears himself.

“See ya, Mom,” Kanji mutters, seeming to finally calculate now is the time to take his leave. He elbows through the gate separating the backroom, but before he can get far, Yu holds up a hand.

“Wait,” Yu tries, curious as to whether or not it’ll work this time. Sometimes, this Kanji won’t be moved to listen to anyone. “Two opinions are better than one.”

To his surprise, Kanji stills, but he doesn’t give him the grace of looking happy about it, hands shoved deep in his tattered jean pockets and shoulders slumped. There’s a small twitch of his eyebrow, and Yu bites down the corners of his lips at the thought of piquing his interest.

“I’m buying these for a friend,” Yu explains, tracing his finger over one of the pairs, authentic leather by touch alone. “He has slender hands and poor circulation.”

Mrs. Tatsumi laughs at that, just a delicate little sound, and he swears he hears some unidentified noise from Kanji too, but he wouldn’t dare stake a bet on it. “I see.”

Kanji sighs like the motion is physically painful, rolling a crack out of his neck as he lazily points to the one in the middle, refusing to make eye contact with either Yu or his mother as he does. “That one’s warm, but thin, because it’s made of…” He tapers off when he feels Yu’s eyes rest on him, a bit of color rising to his cheeks before hiding it behind his elbow. “Whatever. It’s a long-narrow fit.”

Something in Mrs. Tatsumi’s face softens, just barely, and Yu aches for it because he knows it hits Kanji just the same. “I was going to say those, too.”

“Well then,” Yu says, holding the pair they indicate up to the light. They’re weightless, but the inside is lined with something soft and warm to the touch, and when Yu slips his hand inside, he can imagine Adachi’s fitting so perfectly. “That settles it.”

After putting the money down, he takes his leave, distantly surprised Kanji hasn’t used the moment as an excuse to escape whatever conversation was transpiring between them. When he looks over his shoulder on the way out, though, something says they both look too tired to continue it, and...

It’s not perfect, but he’ll take it for now.

The hours tick down to midnight so slow, it’s like time itself is mocking him. Which, granted, might not be too far out of the realm of possibility as far as he’s concerned.

It’s another long night at the station for Dojima, but he gets home with a few hours left in the day still, Nanako already long ago in bed after a shared Junes dinner. The part of Yu that wants to do nothing but pace around his room in front of a black screen is swallowed up by an impromptu interrogation session, Dojima flopping down on the couch with a beer and immediately starting the twenty questions brigade.

Yu’s answered them so many times he feels ridiculous before he remembers this is one of the first times they’ve really been alone in this loop so far, so he straightens his shoulders, and takes it in the teeth. With one eye on the mantle clock, he fires off answers so practiced he might as well be reading off a script. Yes, he’s staying out of trouble. No, no problems with school or his teachers. Yes, he’s made friends. No, they’re not delinquents. Yes, they’re real.

It took him a few loops to realize that this, bizarrely, is a way Dojima attempts to show affection. It seems obvious now from the way he chews his lip and how he softens at anything that indicates he’s settling in, but Yu just felt pinned down like a bug by it for far too long. Even knowing what it means isn’t exactly a comfort, nor is it taking the edge off his anxiety. It is at the very least a distraction, and even in bouts of stilted silence Dojima doesn’t know him well enough yet to break, Yu can’t deny time does move a little bit faster.

As the hour approaches midnight, Yu cuts over top of the late-night talk show Dojima has on to say, “I have school tomorrow, so I should get going.”

“Oh, right,” Dojima says, scratching at his stubble like he’s earnestly forgotten. He’s never been the best with days or time. He flickers Yu a smile that looks painful and cracked across his face, but at least he’s trying. “Don’t neglect your studies out here.”

“I won’t,” Yu assures, delicately pulling himself to his feet and wiping the sweat from his palms that’s accumulated from checking the clock one too many times on his jeans. He hasn’t studied in loops, but he’ll leave that part out.

They bid each other goodnight, and Yu has his teeth brushed and pajamas on with minutes to spare, phone in hand to confirm the time from a second source besides his own wall clock as he paces in front of the window, the rain pattering down in an incessant thrum. He counts down the minutes, and then the seconds, ticking in pattern with the rain.

Midnight hits, and there’s silence. Yu turns around to face the screen, but he doesn’t dare breathe. Seconds tick on with nothing but a black screen, one, two, three, before Yu finally runs out of air still trapped in his lungs and has to inhale. With it, he brings the static.

The TV hums to life, images swirling in uneven bars of noise until it flickers into stability, and no matter how thoroughly Yu tried to prepare himself for what it reveals, he still doesn’t feel ready at all for reality. It’s exactly as he expected: a thin, slouched-over silhouette of a man standing completely still in the center, static flickering and swirling around an undefined shadow, but Yu knows exactly who it is. There’s no question in his mind.

His hand twitches down to his cellphone with the anticipation of a call from Yosuke, or maybe just his own urge to reach out, but it falls back down to his side, limp and buzzing with wild nerves. He’s alone this time.

In all his loops, he’s never had to face this screen alone. But here he is, and there the image stands, plain and damning and utterly incomprehensible.

He has no idea how long he stands there, frozen and transfixed, before something finally seems to snap in him and he twitches to turn the TV on, letting a quiz show rerun drone in the background as he collapses on the couch, elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, staring out at the wall. He steadies his breathing, counts to ten, and tries to piece together what he knows.

Tohru Adachi is on the Midnight Channel. That much is clear. What remains less so are the implications. Despite the rain still pounding on the roof, it’s January, and as far as he knows, Namatame is far from Inaba, and no one else in town would know what the static means if it even appears for the ignorant at all. From where he’s sitting, that leaves two options for this scenario—either the Midnight Channel has been running in Inaba far longer than anyone was aware of, or, in a much more terrifying but infinitely more likely turn of events, it’s happening now because Yu’s already here.

He sinks down until his arms cross over his knees and he can rest his forehead on them, pressing the heels of his palms against his closed eyes as he shakes out his head, trying to loosen up the tension that’s gripping every muscle in his body like a claw. Tohru Adachi is on the Midnight Channel. He used to know what that means.

But this isn’t April, this isn’t Mayumi Yamano’s shadow giving her last, heartbreaking show in the static before her body’s splayed across wires. This isn’t Saki Konishi, taken but still silent on the screen. It’s January, and even through all those loops seeing the signs in spring like he never could before, he feels a world away from them now, because Marie was right. This round is different. There’s no script for this anymore. It’s been erased.

He used to know the plot. Now, it could be anything.

But what it means, he realizes with a sick little rush of hope, is that he can do anything.

What he does is prepare for the worst. In his own way.

The only benefit to being alone is that there’s no one around to tell him no to things. It’s not as if he’s doing anything more reckless than his own friends have done to potential targets before, considering the rather bold way they approached them towards the end. They wouldn’t understand now, is all, but he’s being quite subtle in comparison. Or at least he plans to be.

Maybe this should terrify him, and it does, but when the final bell rings at the end of classes the next day, he can barely pack up fast enough, fingers slippery with manic adrenaline. Yosuke has already taken to hovering at the day’s end on habit, and Yu once again feels stifled by the ghost of the conversation he wishes he could have with him, now more than ever.

Instead, Yu says, “Do you work at Junes today?”

“Yeah.” Yosuke winces like Yu’s stepped indelicately on his foot. “I got called in.”

Yu remembers to spare a thoughtful nod for his plight before tumbling into a breathless, “Cool. I’ll walk with you.”

Crossing over sidewalks and grass patches to the shopping district, Yu prays Yosuke won’t comment on how fast he’s leading the pace or the way he can’t keep his hands still, pulling at the cuffs of his uniform and smoothing out the lay of his shirt. If Yosuke notices, which Yu wouldn’t doubt in the least, he blissfully remains silent on the matter, filling the space with his usual idle remarks that require only minimum engagement from Yu to keep rolling.

“Do you have shopping to do?” Yosuke asks as they approach the Junes parking lot, sprawling for the size of the town.

“Yeah,” Yu lies. “Sorry about work.”

“It’s okay,” Yosuke lies right back. “But, hey, you can grab me if you need help finding something.”

Yu grins in a way he hopes communicates he wouldn’t dare, and Yosuke offers a strained smile back before leading them through the sliding entryway and ducking in to the employees-only door, leaving Yu in the entrance alone in the blink of an eye.

Not entirely alone, however.

He didn’t miss how the man expertly turned away to avoid his eyes on the way in the door, but of course Adachi noticed his arrival. He’s still noticing his presence now, phone to his ear when Yu is sure there’s no one on the other end of the line, hand in his pocket and mumbling under his breath even from the other side of the room. Yu lets his face break into an expression he doesn’t want to quantify only because he knows Adachi’s not looking, but when he starts to make his way over, he’s steeled, stepping into the role with a blink.

“What a coincidence,” Yu says, even though it’s not, and Adachi knows it’s not. They run into each other here all the time, and it’s not beyond Yu that Adachi hasn’t made a single visible attempt to stop it. Not that he ever has, but that piece of consistency brings relief. “What are you up to, detective?”

Yu’s only started calling him that in the last few loops, but every time he kicks himself for not doing it sooner. The way his nose twitches is priceless. It’s involuntary and quick, but it’s one of the few reactions his face physically won’t let him hide, and it shows even as he lowers his phone and gives a plasticine laugh, eyes pinched shut.

“Oh.” Adachi blinks him in until he’s apparently confident he can hold a blankly polite expression. He slides his phone back in his pocket like he’s moving through molasses, shoulders stitched up. “Dojima’s kid.”

He doesn’t have a plan really, and maybe he should today of all days, but if he does at all, it’s just the same one he always has. Insanity, he’s been told, is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results, but it’s gotten him surprisingly far in the past to just pry and poke until something works, until something crumbles in his resolve.

“Yu,” he reminds him, because one day he’ll call him that, and it’ll sing.

“Nothing, really,” Adachi finally answers him after an awkward beat, Yu refusing to give in to his clear indication that he expected him to continue speaking. Adachi plays at the back of his hair, his chest rising and falling with a bitten-off sigh he masks with another dead-eyed smile. “Just taking a break from patrol.”

Yu hums, taking a step closer to him now that Adachi’s drifted so far back since Yu’s arrival he’s pressed up against the windows with nowhere farther to go. To his credit, he barely flinches. “Not a lot to do?”

“Who, me?” Adachi kicks his heel up against the wall, hands in his pockets. “The police are always busy, loyally protecting and serving the community.”

Adachi glances back at him out of the corner of his eye, and Yu catches it with the confirmation he knows he’s looking for—the tacit agreement that he’s full of shit and someone else sees it—with a twitch of his lips and a ghost of a laugh, short and bitter just like Adachi’s when he rolls his shoulders back and looks away.

“No cats to rescue?” Yu cocks his head to the side, trying to chase Adachi’s eyes back to no avail as the detective looks stubbornly somewhere just over his shoulder.

“Nah,” Adachi replies with a shrug, vacant smile plastered back on his face. “You seriously saved my hide back there by the way, Dojima almost tried to compliment me and everything.”

“Wow,” Yu whistles, long and low. “Glad to be of service, then.”

Adachi laughs at that in the way Yu knows means he doesn’t think anything is funny at all, and after so long of hearing it, there’s no part of its edges that hide its harshness. It echoes hollow and mean in the high ceilings of the airlock, and it rings before he speaks again.

“What about you, nothing better to do than bother the police?” Adachi keeps that laugh up into the start of his sentence, but all Yu can think about is the lines of tension on his forehead and how badly he needs someone to smooth them out. “But I guess that’s just what teenagers do these days.”

Yu reaches down to unbutton the top few buttons of his peacoat underneath his scarf, discrete. He’s adjusting to the temperature, and he figures he might be here for a while. “You’re not that old, are you?”

It’s so strange still to constantly posture like this on questions he knows the answer to. They’re ten years and ten months apart in age, at least with what’s written on Yu’s birth certificate. He hasn’t exactly been keeping count of the days, but he’s well past a full calendar year and change older than that now.

“You can’t just ask a guy that,” Adachi objects, arching his brows wide. Yu can’t tell if he’s actually offended or not based on that alone, but he’s seen some rawness with the topic in the past, glimmers of it. “Adults are all the same to kids, anyway.”

“Sure,” Yu agrees mildly, even though it’s not like that at all. He’s grown up fast lately, but Adachi’s always seemed small to him, gangly and unsure. “How’ve you been adjusting here?”

“Should I be paying you for therapy?” He tries to play it off as a joke, jovial tone and wicked flash of a grin, but it’s on the knife-edge of sharp, and no, it’s not in Yu’s head. There’s something bold about him now, an untamed bitter tinge with its maskings unpracticed and incomplete. Similar and familiar, yes, but unmistakably different. Yu doesn’t know what to make of it, but he’s enthralled, and selfishly hopes it stays.

“Just wondering,” Yu shrugs, peeling off his gloves one by one and placing them in his pocket. He pretends not to notice Adachi’s eyes flicker down. “It’s really different, is all. I’ve barely unpacked.”

Another lie, but Yu doesn’t even try particularly hard to hide it, looking up at Adachi out of the corner of his eye with a pointed slant. He only says it out of the suspicion it’s true for at least one of them.

“Me neither,” Adachi drawls, and Yu hides a breath of relief behind his sleeve, because yeah, he does know him. “Not like I’ve had the time. But, hey, that’s having a real job.”

It’s a thinly veiled insult, but Yu doesn’t react to it. “I could help, it’s easier with someone else.”

He says it as an aside, a toss into the air as nonchalant as possible, but the second it settles, something in the air shifts, a palpable drop in the energy between them as his words fall and clatter to the floor. Yu expects his stomach to drop along with it, but instead, he feels his nerves start to light up again, taking in the sight of Adachi’s face falling into something much less familiar, but recognizable all the same.

“Why do you keep doing this?” he asks, and even though he’s working to keep his face neutral in the twitch of his jaw, his words are flat, forced and breathy to keep whatever emotion is boiling underneath out.

“What do you mean?” Yu asks as he pushes his bangs back. He knows exactly what he means.

“This,” Adachi emphasizes, licking his chapped lips and inhaling sharply. He swallows, and Yu can almost see the gears turn behind his eyes as he tries to pinpoint the right words to use, the right voice, in the middle of an internal dilemma Yu has little hope of understanding. “You always show up wherever I am, always so friendly, always offering to help… You can’t just go around like that, kid, it’s weird.”

No matter how hard he's trying to fight it, there’s acid laced in every syllable. Now that it’s here, it’s not like Yu hasn’t run this conversation in his head before—he has, but the only difference is it was much more difficult there than this, even with Adachi standing before him with white knuckles and a half-bitten sneer. He can’t even remember what he was afraid of anymore. If he ever thought it would hurt to get called out, it doesn’t.

It’s exhilarating. “We’re just in the same situation. I know it’s hard.”

“You seem fine,” Adachi says, crossing his arms over his narrow chest. “Unless you’re really so lonely you have to come waste your time doing menial tasks for strangers.”

Sometimes, Adachi feels less than small. It’s almost like talking to a child. But that’s not anything new about him, not in the least.

“It’s not like that,” Yu replies, gentle. “I was just thinking we could both use someone that we know in town and can rely on, but I don’t want to intrude.”

It might be the worst lie he’s said all day, but the truth would be something to the tune of, I can’t leave you alone right now, and sometimes the lie is necessary.

“Yeah, well.” Yu doesn’t know if he imagines it or not, but Adachi’s shoulders curl in at that, and he swears he demures slightly, a thoughtful line falling across his lips as he looks away, chewing down on the inside of his cheek. “It’s overkill. You come on real strong.”

It’s funny, even though Yu can’t dare to laugh at it. Adachi’s the only person who would have any right to call him that.

They’re quiet for a second, and Yu pulls at the lay of his scarf, silently calculating what he’ll do if he just shrugs and goes back to work, genuine in his assessment of the situation without a hint of remorse. He’s known Adachis that would, even much longer into their acquaintanceship than this, and he burns underneath the fabric at his failure to calculate for this, at yet another lost attempt to say the right words at the right time, at another act that’s pushed him away. Still, the seconds tick on, and when there’s no movement in his periphery, Yu blinks back up and stares at him again, Adachi still pinned to the windows and held tight.

“So,” Yu tests the word on his tongue, gauging Adachi’s reaction. He doesn’t even blink. “I could come tonight?”

Adachi sighs like he’s exorcising a demon, but Yu can see the dark rings under his eyes when he blinks over at him, hollow and defeated. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Yu grins without an attempt to curb it. “Brilliant.”

The giddy delirium of getting Adachi to give in fades by the time he’s home to change, and he’s left with only the aftershocks of adrenaline—buzzing anxiety and a pounding migraine.

He’s distracted over dinner with Nanako and he knows she can feel it, her eyes burning the side of his face with innocent confusion for his far-off gaze and monosyllabic conversation. He apologizes with a cup of tea and a promise of a weekend Junes trip before retreating upstairs, pacing his room to the sound of the rain.

It could be nothing, but every minute he has to wait for the end of Adachi’s shift is a minute too long, a minute spent wondering just how bad it could go off the rails.

It says something uncomfortable about him, maybe, that this is the closest he’s come to regretting this. Distantly, he wonders if this is how Adachi felt standing over Nanako’s hospital bed, realizing the cost of the game only when it’s turned on someone he cares about. Time means nothing until it can no longer be retread.

Pausing in front of the TV, he presses his fingertips to the screen and breathes deep as he watches them slowly sink in, pulsating rings of static emitting from the touch. He closes his eyes, opens them again, and pulls them back out, shaking out the faint electricity that lingers on his skin. At least the most important thing remains the same.

It feels like it takes days, but finally, the clock ticks past the hour and Yu is able to take his leave without the risk of running suspiciously early, waving goodbye to a half-asleep Nanako as he heads out the door. The walk is quiet, but every tree and shadow puts him on edge, hairs standing up on the back of his neck like he’s being watched. Then again, that isn’t really new to him either.

He feels wired down to the atoms by the time he reaches that familiar red door, but he straightens his shoulders and tries to swallow it down, letting his finger fall over the doorbell. He hums along to the familiar melody it rings inside, steadying his chest and only just remembering to stop with the sound of approaching footsteps.

“You really came,” Adachi whistles. It’s dizzying, the way Yu can tell by the clip of his voice he’s still somehow genuinely shocked.

Yu adjusts his bag with a rise and fall of his shoulders. “You let me.”

He didn’t need a full roll of his eyes to gather Adachi is loathe for the reminder, but he gets one anyway, albeit half-hidden over his shoulder. “There’s a lot of boxes, and free labor is free labor.”

Peering past the gap between his waist and arm, Yu can already tell a lot is perhaps an overstatement, but there are a few. Enough to keep him occupied for a few hours if he goes slow.

When Yu doesn’t immediately reply, Adachi scratches at his jaw and mutters, “You don’t expect me to pay you, right?”

“No,” Yu assures, gesturing vaguely over Adachi’s shoulder. “Can I…”

With a muffled grunt, Adachi steps aside, pulling at his tie. He’s still half in his work clothes, white button-down undone at the top and jacket tossed by the entryway corner, and Yu has to remind himself the narrow expanse of his neck isn’t what he ostensibly came here for, shifting his eyes out into the room. True to his expectations, there are a handful of boxes strewn about interspersed with what could only very generously be called furniture, a futon pressed up against the wall and a makeshift coffee table with an uneven leg and several inconspicuous piles of clothes shoved underneath them. It’s a mess, but no more of a mess than it always is before Yu comes around.

“This could be worse,” Yu says, honest for once. At least, he’s seen it worse.

The sun has long set behind the mountains, but it’s only then Adachi reaches for the light switch, discarding his tie in the pile on top of his suit jacket. It’s a bright, blinding fluorescent in the center of the room, and Yu will make finding the box with his desklamp one of his first priorities. “Tell that to your uncle making me work overtime.”

“I’ll tell him it’s awful, then,” Yu winks over his shoulder, and it’s a joy to watch Adachi’s face contort through a roulette wheel of emotions in response to that.

It settles on a thin, bitten-down frown, but that’s not surprising. “Uh, I wouldn’t tell him any of this, maybe. He seems like the type to make it weird.”

Yu puts his bag on the coffee table, watching it wobble with the weight before settling on the uneven leg. “I’m just kidding.”

Adachi snorts, indelicate and forceful, before finally remembering to close the door behind them, locking out the cold night air. They look at each other underneath the glaring light, and Yu’s so caught up in the splotch of uneven red across his cheeks and the lost, tense look in his eye that he nearly forgets what he’s doing, or more importantly, why he’s doing it.

“Do you care which box we start with?” Yu asks, lowering down to take a seat cross-legged on the floor.

“No,” Adachi says, slowly, rolling into the word. He looks like a teenager on the edges of a school dance, a put-on display of discomfort and all real embarrassment. Yu’s certain he has no idea.

“I haven’t really eaten,” Yu remarks as he reaches for the cardboard box closest to him, labeled with five or six words all crossed out in vicious sharpie beyond legibility. He was too nervous earlier, could barely force a few bites down. “Have you?”

Adachi leans against the window by the door in a mirror image of this afternoon, but Yu almost feels he has a better angle this time. The answer comes even slower. “No.”

“Do you mind if we order something?” Yu asks, resting his elbow on the top of the box. It doesn’t have any give to it, something solid and large just underneath the cover. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring anything.”

He had the idea to, vaguely, but he’s felt too jumbled to remember that sort of thing since last night. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Adachi’s silhouette on that screen, and even now, with that same outline in front of him, he isn’t as comforted as he’d hoped he’d be by his tangibility.

“Weird thing to apologize for,” Adachi shrugs, grimacing. For however weird he finds it, Yu’s still here on his living room floor, and it makes it easier to stomach the clear distaste in the tone. He smoothes it over with a breathy laugh as he rolls his shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh of his forearms through his shirt. “But sure.”

The man takes a step forward, but Yu stops him with a hand, taking note of the way he freezes at the sight. “Can you close the blinds?”

Adachi raises an eyebrow but does as he says, twisting the slats until they’re flat against the screen, the world closed off and their faces hidden to the night. Somehow, even if it’s all in his head, it just feels safer this way.

There’s a lapse in conversation then, Yu’s hand idly picking at the frayed masking tape holding it together but not sure if he’s really gotten permission to pull at it yet and Adachi looking off somewhere into the kitchen still wrapped up tightly in himself. Yu’s just starting to think of a way to break it when Adachi asks, clearing his throat, “Is this what you do?”

Yu shakes off the déjà-vu and replies, “Do what?”

“Most kids don’t just go around offering up their labor with no strings attached,” Adachi points out, and Yu bites down the corners of a grimace, a reflex of guilt. “You seem like a real mother hen type.”

Yosuke had called him that once. He feels his face burn a little, pulls at a corner of the tape before smoothing it back down with his thumb. “I like doing things for people.”

“I can tell.” Adachi doesn’t roll his eyes, but Yu bets he wants to. “Your friends back home must have been sad to see you go, huh? They lost a free moving company, what a rotten deal.”

Yu shares a secret smile with himself down at his own hands, peeling the tape out a bit further. “I didn’t have friends back home.”

“What, you?” No matter how many times Yu’s told him this, he’s always surprised, clear in the little noise caught in his throat and the space before he speaks again. “Really?”

There’s an edge of sarcasm to it, but Yu likes that part, too. He looks back at him to meet his eyes, and Adachi blinks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. Good, Yu wants to whisper. Don’t look away.

Instead, he says, “Really.”

Another beat of silence, a soft hum from deep inside Adachi’s chest. “Huh.”

“I don’t think,” Yu begins, because it’s quiet in the space between them suddenly, and he wants to leave something memorable in its wake, “anyone ever really taught me how to talk to people. I don’t know if you can tell.”

Adachi raises an eyebrow at him like he’s trying to decide how to react to that, and Yu tries to hold all the light of the flickering fluorescents in his eyes to let him in on the joke, too. This, more than anything else Yu’s learned, is fundamental—there’s no quicker way to pry into him than to give him permission to acknowledge the unspoken, to give space for his true feelings to breathe. It’s a subtle invitation, but it’s significant, one that signals he won’t shy away from unpleasant thoughts of his own.

Here, where Adachi has undoubtedly already learned that optics is everything, Yu knows there are few outlets to speak candidly, and Adachi’s harshness has never been one of his downsides. Even at its worst, his pessimism has always struck Yu as refreshing if nothing else, always a little relieved that someone is willing to acknowledge the glimmers of ugliness all around.

He knows Adachi feels the same, knows the way it endears Yu to him every time, just a little, despite himself. There’s a glint of it there now in the way his hands uncurl from his arms and lower into his pants pockets, shoulders rolling into a shrug. “Well, now that you say it...” he cocks his head to the side and blinks at Yu, falling into a thoughtful frown. “That does track. No offense.”

Yu laughs at that, small and under his breath. He doesn’t know if Adachi hears. “This probably wasn’t proper social form, huh?”

Adachi kicks off the wall with a push of his heel and crosses over towards Yu in a slouch. He stops and hovers a few paces away, lazily kicking at another box on the floor. “What, inviting yourself over to someone’s house and going through their stuff?”

Yu does let himself show guilt at that, scratching at his neck and looking away with a nervous shrug. Even if shame eludes him, he can still look the part. “When you put it that way, no, not really.”

“Yeah, well.” Adachi rests his foot cocked up against the side of the box and twists his ankle side to side, scuffing up the cardboard. He’s still in his work shoes. “They don’t exactly teach that sorta thing in school, so what do I know?”

He tries to laugh, slipping back into that jovial, airheaded mask, but it doesn’t have the right chime to it. Yu lets him get away with it, at least for now, but there’s something in the slight tinge of color in Adachi’s face, or maybe the teeth biting down on his lips, that makes him feel bold.

“I can let you do this alone, if you’d prefer.”

He feels bold enough to say it, but not enough to fight back the fear that drops hard and cold in his chest that the calculation won’t pay off, that it’ll be seen as an out rather than as the peace offering it is on a night where he can least afford that kind of risk. He’d watch from the bushes if that’s what it’ll take, and for a second, Adachi twitches still, looks up, and hesitates just enough that Yu starts to plan a vantage point.

In the space between, though, Adachi closes his eyes, and when he opens them again, he says, “No. It’s your offer, it’d be stupid not to take it.”

“Okay,” Yu says, a little dizzy. “Great.”

Adachi stares at the wall behind him, steeled and blank, before the seconds start to drag on and he crouches down with a sigh, picking at the masking tape.

“So,” he begins, resting his elbow on the box and his chin in his hands. “Are you still ordering dinner?”

“Yeah,” Yu replies, caught on the way the collar of his shirt falls down half-off of his shoulder. “What do you want?”

“Soba,” Adachi replies, like that surprises Yu at all. “I have a real job, so don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Yu says again, feeling fire pool underneath his skin. “Just tell me where to start, then.”

Adachi looks at him like he doesn’t understand a single thing about him, but it doesn’t seem to matter, because he just shakes his head and says, “Whatever’s in your hands.”

Yu can work with that.

Chapter Text

The rain sings patterns on the window, and between the electric hum of the single light overhead and the small sounds of Adachi’s presence, Yu can’t help but feel like this is the first time he’s breathed since the start.

There’s nothing about this situation that should relax him—not the rain or what it means, not the awkward silence settled like a nest between them, and certainly not Adachi himself, who unboxes every painstaking item like a bomb covered in sewer water, shuffling things around on a threadbare, open-sided bookcase with the tips of his fingernails.

The first box Yu’s picked is simple: his clothes, mostly, and if Adachi is at all embarrassed by Yu’s hands on them, he doesn’t show it. Yu’s done this a few times in the past, but it’s always been late enough that at least the more basic elements like this have been taken care of. He must have been living out of a suitcase for weeks. When Yu finally does crack the box open after their initial discussion, Adachi tells him to shove them into the dresser wherever over his shoulder while he opens up his own box, which consists almost entirely of books.

Instead, Yu does the civil thing and goes to work at folding them one by one, smoothing out the more egregious wrinkles in his button-downs and carefully tucking his sleeves. To that, Adachi makes a face but says nothing, picking at his stack of law textbooks.

If pressed, Yu couldn’t name for the life of him what's so different about right now. He’s lived this moment before, in versions of their relationship far more developed, in better-decorated iterations of his apartment, in forged dynamics where they have more to say and more certainty between them. Yet something about this quiet feels distinct. It’s stilted with the air of awkward acquaintanceship, but almost like the dust has settled within it, a subtle acceptance of Yu’s presence that seems to be emanating off Adachi in near-imperceptible waves.

He’d dismiss it as all in his head if he hadn’t lived it so many times before, but he doubts he's imagining it now—the way Yu seems to blend into the furniture when Adachi sweeps his gaze over the room, rather than stick out like an island within it, unwelcome and daunting. Once Adachi starts playing with the books on the shelf, Yu hardly seems to matter at all, only sparing a glance back when he begins to feel Yu’s eyes lingering too long on his frame.

There’s nothing about this that should be calming, but there’s a glow over everything—lighting he’s sat under dozens of times, the contoured shadows of Adachi’s apartment in the pouring rain—and it spills out of his fingertips as he folds narrow pairs of worn jeans, each moment bold and embossed like a film reel. He can see the bone of Adachi’s shoulder blades through his thin white shirt, and for once, they aren’t so stitched together, aren’t pulled taut up against his ears. Instead, they fall haphazard down his back, hugging the visible notches in his spine as he alphabetizes the stack in his hand.

There’s nothing about this that should be calming, because everything Yu has said tonight, he’s said so many times it feels like a mantra. His loneliness is nothing but a punchline, nothing but a piece of bait dangling from a hook. Of course it resonates with Adachi, someone who has clung to his own shadow so tightly it could turn into dust in Yu’s fingertips, but it’s never occurred to him that different versions of him might synthesize his similarities to Yu distinctly. He’s told him in a hundred separate places, from the floodplain to the gas station to Yu’s kitchen to right here in this very room, and there are copies upon copies of him that hadn’t reacted much differently than today’s. But it’s not quite the same.

There’s nothing about this that should be calming, but while every time Yu speaks of his past it wedges open a tightly locked door between them, he is beginning to recognize the subtle shades of difference between the man Yu has always known, and the man in front of him. To an Adachi who had an identity here, however fragile, Yu’s hidden similarities to him were resonant, but historically difficult to swallow in the moment, for reasons he’s never quite been able to articulate. It always shifted the mood, even if temporarily, into darker territory, like Yu’s held up a blackened mirror to him he didn’t want to look inside.

The factors that should be working against this moment are endless, but piece by piece, Yu is beginning to understand why he’s meant to exist in this moment beside him, right now. After all, this is not a man who’s spent months in rain-beaten skin, coated in the thick disappointment of others, a proven captive alone in an apartment miles and miles from home. As Yu watches him press a chewed fingernail between his teeth, appraising the last of his work from the first box, he’s struck by the reality of his situation. There’s no protective layer around him here. He’s still freshly stitched after the tear-away from his old life to his new, and smaller than Yu’s ever seen, with dark, deep circles under his eyes and lips shined raw from winter air and compulsive biting.

There’s everything this moment should be based on what Yu has always known—fraught, tense, unsure—and everything it is. He’s learned to read the silences between them like palmistry, and this is a lifeline he’s never traced before, following the path just so until it careens off course. Where that line leads, Yu is finding, is something like peace, a truce drawn in the trench between them with each pressed to opposite sides of the room.

Yu’s legs are gangly beneath him when he gets to his feet, folding up against his will, but he steadies himself on the futon and slides the folded piles of clothes in his open dresser drawers. It’s a slight piece of furniture, and what’s in his hands doesn’t even come close to filling the space it provides. He doubts he has another box of them.

“This one alright?” Yu asks as he crosses over to the center of the room, putting a hand on the box closest to him. He nudges it with his foot just a hair, and it’s heavy to the touch.

“Hmm?” Adachi startles up from his focus on the bookshelf, nail slipping out from between his teeth. He looks up at Yu, shrugging. “Yeah, sure.”

Yu peels at the tape, watching Adachi over the top of his bangs as he discards the previous box behind him and reaches for another, much lighter judging by the way it slides easily across the tattered hardwood floor. Adachi wads up the tape and tosses it over his shoulder in the general direction of the last box, and Yu hides a smile as he presses the discarded tape of his own box neatly to the side of it.

“This is mostly stuff for the bathroom,” Adachi mutters in explanation as he rises to his feet, hoisting up the box along with him.

Yu would balk at how long it means he’s been using hotel toiletries if he didn’t already know this tendency about him. Maybe he’ll just switch out his shampoo without even telling him, this time. He doubts he’d notice.

“Sure,” Yu tosses back over his shoulder, even though he’s already disappeared around the corner, the door to the bathroom left slightly ajar behind him.

If the energy shifts at his exit, it’s that the room feels colder, and Yu’s chest falls heavy without him effortlessly in his field of vision. If he pivots, he can see Adachi’s shadow moving through the crack in the door, so he does, and focuses on it as he pulls up the flaps on the box.

His fingers slip through the cracks to fall on cold, black plastic. Heat runs through him, buzzing and hard, as he looks down at Adachi’s all-too-familiar television set, a clunky, outdated miniature cube of a beast, settled with dust that rubs off on Yu’s fingers. He digs his nails into the ridges of the top covering and sighs, feeling the motion rattle in between his ribs as he tries to swallow the immediate wave of nausea that follows. He attempts to bat away the images that swirl behind his eyelids, but it’s useless. No matter how tightly he closes them, all he sees is a pair of black, darkened eyes looking back, hollowed out by a golden tinge in the irises.

The touch alone makes him feel sick, and he’s torn between shoving the box underneath the futon in the futile hope he won’t notice and chucking it out an open window like it’s a cursed object he needs to banish. Ultimately, he knows he can’t do either. From experience, he’s well aware it’s one of the few items in his apartment Adachi would absolutely notice was gone. He has a secret late-night game show rerun addiction, and it would be charming if the vector for it didn’t carry so much weight, didn’t steal Yu’s breath away just to look at in the silent apartment.

It’s another item he's never had to unbox like this. He knows even if he weren’t here it would get done eventually, sooner rather than later, but he feels like a criminal with it between his hands. He feels worse than that, like the rotten home that makes a criminal, ready to set the stage for a sequence of events for which he’s still so frighteningly unsure of the true consequences.

Slowly, he peels it out from the cardboard and sets it down on the floor with a solid thump, his fingers leaving indents in the dust on the screen. He stares at it for long, winding seconds, like he’s afraid to blink before it does, like the eye of Ameno-Sagiri is watching from within it. He sits in front of it motionless long enough that the shadow underneath the door shifts and Adachi emerges, narrow hand curled around the doorframe.

“You good?” Adachi asks, appraising Yu as he sits frozen in the middle of his floor with a raised eyebrow.

Yu shakes out his head, trying to replace the anxious images rattling around his brain with what’s in front of him: Adachi’s propped hip and incredulous expression. It’s not quite enough, but it’s something. “Yeah. Where do you want this?”

He shrugs, hands in his pockets as he makes his way to the only remaining box, the largest one in the dead center that’s almost assuredly full of other small appliances and furniture pieces. He took the train back his first weekend to bring them all out in his car, but Yu can’t imagine his belongings took up more than a comfortable fit in his back seat. When pressed, Adachi calls it minimalism. Yu would categorize it more as Spartan, and he’s always found their ways to be quite dull.

“Middle shelf of the rack.” Adachi gestures to the open space he’s left on the bookcase, only just high enough for him to comfortably watch from the floor, or perhaps laying down in bed. Regardless, Yu takes a deep inhale and does as he’s told, static buzzing through every point of contact between the television and his skin. It’s a relief to be rid of it when he reaches the cord around the back of the case—unplugged, he can do that himself—but it disappears fast when he catches Adachi’s reflection behind him in the screen, crouched down and eyes shining bright in the blackness.

“You’re looking at that like it’s gonna bite,” Adachi observes, and Yu can hardly fathom how he keeps managing to be this funny in all the wrong ways. “It’s not that old.”

Yu fights for something appropriate to say to that, but he sinks back to his heels and settles on, “No, it’s not.”

Adachi gives a short hum before rolling his shoulders and crawling back up to his feet, disappearing into the kitchen. When he returns later with a single beer in hand, Yu’s just distantly surprised he didn’t do that sooner, and more than distantly wishing he had permission yet to grab his own. Any misgivings Adachi’s ever had about encouraging his underage drinking usually disappears around the time he stops caring about underage sex—maybe a little sooner, give or take.

Yu takes the liberty to pull open the remaining box, Adachi pressing his back up against the rack and taking a sip as he appraises the contents from a safe distance, palm to the floor. With a bit of digging, he eyes Adachi’s desk lamp and carefully pulls it out, peeking underneath the shade to check if the lightbulb is still intact. It isn’t always, but thankfully, it is today, so he holds it up between them and arches his brows.

Adachi picks up his hint immediately, and gestures behind him towards the futon. “On the stand there.”

It’s not the nicest lamp by any stretch of the imagination, but Yu is fond of it regardless for the much-needed warmth it adds to the room. Some of the best moments between them in any space and time have been cast in this light, night through the windows and this single glowing bulb pulling their shadows long and their words soft. Carefully, he brushes some dust from the shade as he sets it down on what can only be generously called a nightstand and is more of a nondescript block of wood. This, he does plug in, and with its light comes a hit of relief, taking the edge off the harsh glow from above.

His equilibrium has just about returned to him when he turns around to ask Adachi if he can hit the main light, and is interrupted by the ring of the doorbell. Just like that, he’s dizzy again, so busy peering out the window into futile droplets of rain he nearly misses Adachi moving to pull to his feet.

“No,” Yu insists, a little too harsh, a little too rushed. For whatever it’s worth, it works, though. Adachi shirks a bit with widened eyes as he lowers back down, raising the can to his lips again. Yu adds, softer, “I’ll get it.”

His steps feel weightless to the door, like he’s watching himself move rather than doing it himself. As he crosses over the apartment, he never once loses the awareness of Adachi’s shape on the floor, dangerously visible in line of the door. Subtly, he moves to cover him, standing to the right side and flexing his fingers out from a fist as he reaches for the handle, swallowing down.

When he sees the delivery driver through the crack, the first thing Yu registers, with a full-body shiver of release, is that it’s not Namatame. Why would it be? It’s January.

It’s a young man not much older than Yu himself, maybe a classmate he’s passed once or twice in the hallway, bored-looking and windbreaker soaked from the rain. He hands over the bag wordlessly without even a single glance inside, and Yu slides him a stack of bills from his pocket, trying to remain inconspicuous as he hurries to shut the door behind him.

It surprises him still to turn and see Adachi curled up right on the floor where he left him, legs crossed and eyes fixed somewhere on Yu’s chest, alive and tangible as ever. Yu takes careful steps into the room and somehow makes it past him and into the kitchen, managing to tear his eyes away just at the last second before he’d have to turn over his shoulder on the way past his form.

He moves plates from the cabinet by memory, mechanical. It’s January. The paper bag is cold to the touch, damp with the contents inside pouring out steam. He divides their orders, reaching for the good chopsticks Adachi keeps tucked away, mostly unused, in the utensils drawer. It’s January.

He doesn’t know what that means. He carries their dinner back down over to where Adachi is sitting, foregoing the table entirely for the opposite side of the bookshelf from where Adachi is perched, sliding the other man’s bowl over across the length. Their fingers almost brush, but they don’t, not quite. Even sitting down, he feels the vertigo.

It’s winter in Inaba, and he’s lost the script.

There’s not much left to do by the time dinner arrives, but they pause it anyway, the last of the final box discarded while they finish their meal mostly in silence. Yu almost loses his mind for a third separate time tonight when Adachi reaches over and plugs in the TV for background noise, but when he turns back to look at Yu in half-hearted confirmation of the channel he’s chosen, no matter how much Yu searches his eyes, he can’t find anything else hiding within them.

The low chatter of the game show provides a soundtrack in between the pattering rain, but Yu gets the feeling neither of them is paying much attention. Adachi’s bouncing his crossed knee up and down idly while staring off somewhere into the depths of his apartment, and Yu is trying to look anywhere else, but it’s not as uncomfortable a silence as it should be, all factors considered. He would struggle to call it companionable—there’s still too much ice in the air for that—but it’s acceptable. It’s not unlike earlier, the same demarcation line between them, but it’s shrunk to just the width of the bookcase, and Adachi shows no visible urge to grow it again.

When they’re finished, Yu collects their plates and takes them to the sink, where a sizable pile has already been amassed from the days Adachi has spent here. As much as he wants to offer to clean the whole thing, he’s not entirely sure how this Adachi would handle being so directly called out, so he instead just settles for cleaning the items in his hands, reaching for the store-brand soap and loose sponge on the counter.

“You don’t have to do that,” Adachi calls through the living room. Yu looks back to see him propped up with his elbow on the bookcase, jaw in the palm of his hand, and he just smiles.

“I’m a guest, so I shouldn’t leave a mess,” Yu explains, depositing a bit of soap onto the sponge. It’s not true, and when Yu eventually treats him for dinner alone, he’ll find out how not true it is, but he just hopes he won’t call his bluff too badly. “It’s nothing.”

He can feel Adachi’s eyes on his back as he works, but he finishes quickly, trying to ignore the heat it’s singed in between his shoulder blades. He puts them on some paper towels across the counter to dry before turning back around, and he pretends not to see Adachi’s gaze inconspicuously slide over to the TV screen as he does, awkward angle and all.

Adachi’s still nursing the same beer, but it must be almost empty by how quickly it rises to his lips and then falls back after a small sip. Yu wonders if he just wants something to do with his hands. He straightens up a little in the vague direction of the box, but Yu beats him to it, kneeling in front and fishing around until he pulls out a small black and red digital clock. He holds it up like a prize girl in one of his shows with a flourish, and something close to brief amusement flickers on Adachi’s face, but it could be his imagination.

“Nightstand.” Adachi cocks his head over to the side, and Yu follows with a nod, crawling on his knees the few paces over and adjusting the lamp base just a hair before placing it at its side.

Yu plugs it in and clicks over the numbers until they’re accurate, praying Adachi won’t notice how late it is. With a hum, he lingers in front of it by touching a finger to the lampshade, and asking, “Can I turn off the overhead?”

“Sure,” Adachi says, flat and noncommittal. “As long as you can see.”

Yu’s not sure if he realizes he’s done it or not, but it’s charming, in the off-putting way everything Adachi does is charming, that he acknowledges the reality of who will be doing the remainder of the actual work. Not a single part of him minds as he gets up and hits the switch over by the front door, plunging the room into dim warmth.

In truth, it does take a second for his eyes to adjust, but by the time he’s back on the floor, he can make out most of the shapes remaining in the box, and more importantly, the whites in Adachi’s eyes.

Adachi pretends to watch the game show, and Yu pretends not to itch all over with the phantom sensation of his gaze whenever he turns to place what’s in his hand where its owner indicates. Even with Yu’s lackadaisical pace, it’s quick work, and every time he reaches back into the depths, he’s jolted by the brush of cardboard at the bottom like an electrical shock, flush with the stark reminder that this cannot be infinite.

When he goes to put a half-broken down blender that must be at least a decade old in the kitchen, Adachi calls out towards his back, “Can you grab me another?”

Yu is grateful for the darkness, because even turned away, he’s suspicious Adachi could otherwise see somehow the outline of the smile twitching across his lips. “Sure.”

It’s tamped down by the time he’s placing the can in Adachi’s open palm, but judging by the sidelong glance he spares him as he does, there must be something lingering in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Adachi mutters, and Yu takes the empty one before he can object, tossing it into the kitchen recycling behind him before sitting back down.

When his fingers finally scrape the bottom of the box on the last item, Yu hides a sigh inside it, wishing he could freeze time for just a moment longer, just until the fear of what comes beyond subsides. Instead, he curls his fingers around a digital camera, and pulls it out gently by the strap.

Something brief and small flashes across Adachi’s face, impossible to categorize. “Here, it goes on the shelf.”

Yu turns it over in his hands a few times, brushing off some of the dust before reluctantly complying. He’d kill for a picture of him right now in this light, but it feels like another thing he couldn’t quite get away with. Not yet. Adachi’s spindly fingers wrap around the body of it, and to Yu’s surprise, he too brushes off a bit of the dust he had missed before tucking it beside the TV, half-hidden behind a short stack of books.

Yu stills, watching, and it’s just a second too long, Adachi catching his eyes over the rim of his can as Yu tries to remember what to do with his hands too, now. With a twitch of his fingers, he flips the box around, pulling at the tape on the bottom to start breaking it down.

He’s almost gotten his nail underneath it when the sound of Adachi’s voice stops him, tape pressed frozen between his fingers. “Why’d you move here, anyway?”

By the clock’s own admission, he’s been here for two hours in silence. Yu blinks at him and pulls out the corner of tape he’d gotten peeled, pressing the discarded piece to the side before folding the box down. He wonders how long he’d been sitting on that, or if he only thought to ask him now. He’s not sure which he prefers.

“My parents took a job overseas,” Yu explains, rocking back on his heels. He’s close enough to the table to press his back up to it, so he does. “They couldn’t leave me alone, so they sent me to whatever relative would take me.”

Adachi hides whatever expression he makes at that behind another drink, but Yu doesn’t miss how his cheeks contort, so he knows he at least does make one. He lowers the can down slowly, humming. “They didn’t offer to bring you?”

“No,” Yu blinks, because it’s been a while since someone, even Adachi, asked him that. The truth is, he never thought to ask his parents. It didn’t seem like a decision wise or fruitful enough to be even worth considering.

“Huh,” Adachi regards, giving him another one of those lazy once-overs that makes Yu feel like a piece of modern art he can’t quite decide if he understands or not. At the very least, when his eyes narrow, Yu doesn’t get the feeling he hates what he’s finding. “So they just up and left to do their own thing. That’s kinda sad.”

“I’m used to it,” Yu replies, because it’s the truth, or at least part of it. The whole truth is that it’s better this way, especially now he knows beyond a shadow of doubt he’d rather been dumped unceremoniously in these backwoods than have spent another day in a city that felt as small as the back of a pin, confined to the four walls of his room and the halls of his school. But he’ll spare him that. “They used to do this when I was a kid, too.”

“Sheesh,” Adachi rubs at the back of his head, rolling his shoulders. He keeps glancing between the TV and Yu, back and forth, too fast to be organic. Yu should know. He’s been doing the same. “Some parents. I thought the point of them was to breathe down your neck.”

It’s supposed to be a joke, and maybe if this was the first time they’d ever known each other, Yu would take it as one, dark in the twisted way it resonates. He can’t pretend to be that, though, and once he heard through Adachi he’s heard it every time since—the bitter undertone that rises out from the tone of his words like grapevines.

It’s not funny, so he doesn’t laugh, but he does crack a small, wry smile. “They do that when they’re around, don’t worry.”

Adachi wipes at his lips with the back of his hand, Yu watching the drops of moisture that still cling to them, parted slightly in the light. He shrugs, laughing with his shoulders more than the curt noise in his throat. “I guess kids these days maybe aren’t that different, then.”

“Told you.” Yu inclines his head, and Adachi just rolls his eyes away back to the TV behind the shield of his can.

Another silence stretches on after that, long enough that Yu’s watched his own foot trace patterns in the hardwood so many times he wonders if he’s waiting for him to kick himself out, but the TV switches to a commercial after a while, and Adachi asks, “How old are you, anyway?”

Yu considers which truth to follow here, before deciding on, “Seventeen.”

“Seventeen,” Adachi repeats, hissing into a sip. He switches the cross of his legs, propping his arm up on his knee with a sigh. “Jesus.”

“Sorry,” Yu replies, because he is. Kind of. At least for the way Adachi’s fighting not to look at him, the tiniest bit of color rising in his neck, because it means he still has the decency to feel shame. Yu doesn’t want his shame, for better or worse. “I wouldn’t be here if I were any older, so.”

“Me neither,” Adachi mutters, low enough that Yu’s almost certain he’s not meant to hear it. He does, though, so he keeps his eyes steady on his frame even as he’s turned stubbornly away, pretending to be enthralled with a Junes commercial. He clears his throat after a beat of quiet, and a little bit louder, says, “Well, that’s life. Shit happens.”

“It does,” Yu agrees mildly, lips in a thin line. Before he can think to stop himself, his mouth parts into a yawn he can’t control enough to stamp down, and he watches with a tinge of regret as Adachi’s eyes flicker to the clock across from him, just minutes shy of midnight. “Sorry, it’s late.”

Adachi’s eyes widen like he hasn’t looked at it in hours, and he downs what looks like the rest of the can in one go, shaking out his head. “You couldn’t have done this on a day I don’t work tomorrow?”

Yu would apologize again, but he’d bet Adachi is getting tired of the word. “I have school, if it makes you feel any better.”

“You’re crazy, kid.” Adachi says it accusatory like it’s supposed to be for Yu, but there’s a far-off look in his eye as he scans across his body, like he’s the one who can’t quite believe it. “Go home.”

Yu glances out the window, into the rain, and clenches his nails into the side of his jeans, because there’s nothing more right now, in this moment, that he can do. He inhales slow, and when he releases it, he puts his palms flat to the floor, pushing himself to his feet. “Right.”

Adachi follows him with his eyes as he gathers up his belongings wordlessly, so still Yu wonders if he’ll say anything else at all, or just watch him like a lab subject as he exits. It’s not until he has his hand on the open door that he speaks up, and it’s so quiet he almost misses it in the rain.

“Thanks for the help,” Adachi mutters, and when Yu turns to face him, he’s looking down.

“Of course.” Yu smiles at that, only because he knows he can’t see it. He grips his hand tight around the handle, and offers, “Stay safe.”

Adachi doesn’t dare reply to that, but as usual, his face as he watches Yu leave says everything.

The rain continues to fall, and Yu tries to think about anything else.

He checks the TV at midnight every night that week, and while the image never gets any clearer, none of the other warning signs on the horizon, it’s little comfort. Patterns, the thing he’s been building his entire understanding of this case on, are less like a lifeline here and more of a spiraling rabbit hole in a direction he no longer trusts. It’s all static and silhouettes, but he stares at the picture until it fades.

By day, he plays the role he’s starred in for months. He fakes his way through diligent note-taking in courses he’s sat through dozens of times and well-known revelations about his friends like they’re brand new, timid in conversation like a good acquaintance. When Yosuke invites him to study for exams with Chie and Yukiko, even though he could pass first-year questions in his sleep after years worth of second-year tests, he accepts, because the Yu he’s pretending to be just moved from a different city and curriculum, and this is his part. These are his lines.

It’s easier to play at certain times than others. His eyes glaze over at the monotony of the study guide under his hands, each pencil stroke laced with a quiet frustration at the familiarity of their words. It’s as effortless as the first time, though, to lean back and let Yosuke explain math problems like he’s auditioning for a tutorship, nod along at the right parts, and focus on the animated expressions that flash across his best friend’s face far more than the words he says. It’s easy to laugh along under his breath at the way Chie and Yosuke bicker, to steal knowing glances at Yukiko across the table, to begin to wedge into the role he’ll eventually come to take in their lives, every second another performance he’s determined to ace. They never make it that hard.

It’s easy to crack a shy smile when Dojima asks if he’s made any friends yet over dinner, an effortless affirmation on his lips. It’s harder to decide whether or not he’s succeeded in making a new one, yet.

It’s easy to track down the others, the long list of friends and colleagues and acquaintances that Yu has found in these town streets. There’s a part of him that feels ashamed of how not every loop has accounted for this—during the most desperate cycles, or even some of just the more daring ones, expanding his social circle was a hindrance rather than an asset. In this moment, though, it’s difficult to ignore the sense of expansive finality, and the extreme breadth of space between each step and the next leaves him aching for connections to fill them, to act like this journey is the one that, as he’s been told, will last. Even in the event of failure, he figures he’ll need them more than ever.

It’s harder to track down Kanji, who never seems to be at the textile shop and won’t walk the halls of Yasogami until April, but he keeps one eye trained on the windows every time he walks past, a pocket full of anecdotes about wanting a doll custom made for Nanako and lies about his lack of sewing skills. It’s his usual lead-in, and even though Kanji sputters and turns beet red at his mother’s suggestion that he could create a wonderful piece, he always blushes and asks Yu’s name again by the time it’s done, delicate and expertly stitched in his hand. When he finally does catch him, on the nervous last day of rain, it fits the pattern just the same. Even if Kanji storms off into the backroom with tight shoulders halfway through the conversation, Yu doesn’t have any real doubts he’ll do it.

Mostly, he waits out the rain. For a long, dreamlike week, every day it washes through him until the sun finally brings impossible relief, and he has no idea what to do.

Every ‘x’ on the calendar is another rollercoaster heart attack, ramping up and crashing down over and over until the sun peeks through the fog on February’s first morning to the same quiet town, undisturbed in watchful tranquility. He floats down the stairs like he’s walking on glass, the bottom visible beneath him and no clue when it will drop out.

On that morning, he clutches the gloves he bought for Adachi when he leaves the house, watching as a blissfully unaware Dojima shrugs his coat on and runs out the door. The hours in class tick by like molasses, sticky and thick, Yu counting the seconds with the rub of his thumb against soft leather in his pocket.

It doesn’t even occur to him to feign waiting for his friends, too caught up in the countdown to the final dismissal to do anything but bolt out the doors like the release of a coiled up spring, but he does manage to remember to text Yosuke a quick apology on the way down to the station. It’s a Tuesday, one of Adachi’s long days. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be there, besides the obvious, and in this eerie stillness, all Yu can do is hope for the best.

There’s been stale, trapped air in his lungs for days, and it floods out of his body in a full-shiver exhale when he sees the top of Adachi’s head peeking out over one of the cubicles past the reception desk. His knuckles pull white against the gloves, and the receptionist barely spares him a glance as he makes his way back, scanning the room for his uncle who seems nowhere to be found. Inhaling, he adjusts the fall of his collar and approaches his desk.

“It’s nothing much,” Yu greets, pressing down on his lips to fight off a reaction at the way Adachi’s whole frame jumps with a start, the pencil he was holding between his fingers falling down with a clatter. “Happy Birthday.”

Scanning the room for any watchful eyes one more time, Yu reaches into his pocket and sets the gloves on the desk, hasty, but taking care not to crinkle the leather in his fists. Adachi barely glances down at them, his focus fixed on the tense of Yu’s jaw as he swallows.

“They match the coat,” he adds when Adachi doesn’t immediately reply, like it explains anything.

“What?” Adachi asks, blinking like he’s still trying to synthesize his words and hasn’t quite caught up yet. “What are you…”

“See you tonight.” Just like that, Yu turns on his heel and walks back out, ducking behind a divider to shield himself from the sight of Dojima’s back down the hall, deep in conversation with another detective. Still, it’s not worth it to linger, not even when he glances back to see Adachi experimentally draw one over a flexed hand with an unreadable expression. Even if it was, Yu doesn’t trust himself to maintain his composure here. Not when his lungs are flooding anew with a dangerous, frightening sort of relief.

There’s a part of him that wonders if Dojima has even managed to really coerce Adachi into birthday dinner like he says, but when he gets home late that evening after a steak skewer date with Marie, there’s a shopping list on the counter and a Nanako positively thrilled at the prospect of a Junes trip to pick up sushi, so if nothing else, he’s pretending. While he’s there, he gathers up some glutinous rice flour and green tea powder, just to have in his back pocket, but Nanako has always been an easy buy-in to help whip up dessert. At the very least, it might add some flair to store-bought dinner, even if Yu is fairly certain this might be the first time he’s celebrated his birthday with anything other than a slightly nicer bottle of sake in almost a decade. He’d get that if he could, too, but Nanako lights up at the suggestion of dango, so he’ll take it.

By the time they get back, to his mild surprise, Adachi and Dojima are already in the living room, Dojima sprawled on the couch and Adachi with his elbow on the table facing the TV, an open bottle of store-brand sake between them. The both of them visibly relax at the sound of the door, Adachi reeling back at the exuberance of Nanako’s immediate greeting.

“Happy birthday!” she chimes, peeking out from behind Yu to wave at Adachi, who after a beat offers a quick one back before sliding the hand into his hair, color deep in his face as he averts his eyes.

“Thanks, Nanako-chan,” Adachi replies, an awkward, stilted laugh caught in his throat. He turns to look at Dojima when he hops off the couch to his feet, crossing over to take the bag from Yu’s hands.

Nanako flutters around Dojima as he sets up the dishware to plate it, but he ushers Yu away when he tries to help, leaving him nowhere else to go but towards Adachi’s side, standing over the table as the man appraises him from his seat.

“Did you talk him into this?” Adachi asks, eyebrow raised and nails just so subtly digging in the fabric of his slacks.

“No,” Yu says, honest for once. “I really didn’t.”

Adachi blinks at him over the rim of his glass, unswayed from a clear skepticism that only builds when Dojima calls from inside the kitchen, “What’s the rice flour for?”

“Nanako and I thought it might be fun to make a quick dessert together after,” Yu replies, watching Adachi’s eyes shift inconspicuously upwards before falling into a fluttering blink, looking away. “Nothing fancy,” he adds, quieter and mainly for his benefit.

To his relief, Nanako doesn’t challenge this narrative, but it’s hardly much when he never expected her to in the first place. Adachi taps his fingers on the table, and asks under his breath, “What kind?”

“Matcha dango,” Yu replies, like he doesn’t know his secret fondness for it. His tastes are sweeter than he’d ever admit to, but Yu’s meticulous research into him has rarely led him astray. It’s well-documented.

“Hmm,” Adachi intones, like it doesn’t matter at all. But they can both play the fool, Yu is fine with that. When he blinks back up at him, there’s a hint of amusement in the corners of his eyes, and Yu doesn’t know if it’s for him, or the family over his shoulder, but he returns it, like there’s some sort of secret between them the others don’t share. “Didn’t know you could cook.”

When Dojima and Nanako cut in to sit between them on either side, sushi and plates in hand, the moment passes and they drop their eyes, Adachi using the start of idle dinner conversation they bring along with it to shift into the version of him Yu has, until now, always met first. It’s odd, then, how he feels like a stranger, sending laughter that doesn’t reach his eyes and flippant replies over an easy drawl, because no matter how familiar a display it is, Yu’s never been so aware of how his eyes roam everywhere in the room but him.

“Thank you for dinner,” Adachi says after the plate before them has been mostly depleted, eyebrows raised up like he’s trying to hold them there. Dojima smiles back at him, and Adachi flickers his gaze away, swallowing down a piece of salmon. When he’s finished, he adds. “I guess they’re right about small-town hospitality.”

“Nothing small-town about it.” It’s fascinating for Yu to watch the way Dojima falls into old patterns and roles, too, rubbing at the stubble on his chin and shrugging even as he holds his focus on Adachi, ever the professional even in the comfort of his own home. “You’re my partner.”

Adachi doesn’t look at him even then, but Yu swears he can feel he wants to even as he glances at Dojima behind his chopsticks, canned fake laughter escaping his chest despite his unmoving eyes. “Well, whatever you say.”

Later, Yu and Nanako retreat to the kitchen to mix dough while Adachi and Dojima talk low and inaudible around the table, half-hidden by the counter. No matter how many times Yu looks over his shoulder, he never finds an answer for the faint heat of attention between his shoulder blades, all physical evidence missing despite its insistent presence as he guides Nanako’s hand to roll and skewer the dumplings, nodding along to a story from school.

There’s no way Adachi doesn’t catch the way Yu’s watching him out of the corner of his vision for a reaction when he takes a bite, but his attention doesn’t flicker over, not even once. He doesn’t bring up the gloves to Dojima, not this time. He doesn’t even acknowledge Yu at all, so it’s easy for Yu to stay quiet, tune in to nothing but the lazy fry at the end of Adachi’s words and the clack of his nails against the table, and stare at the TV from around the contours of his profile.

It’s not until Adachi’s putting on his coat—still the grey one, the only one Yu ever sees him wear anymore—that he looks back at all, catching Yu up against the hallway wall as he clandestinely slides the gloves out of his pocket and over his hands. Even then, it’s less of a conscious choice and more of a flicker, a nervous twitch of his eyes that lingers on him only long enough for him to regain his senses and blink away, but Yu remains.

He doesn’t dare look anywhere else, transfixed by the way the material frames his slender fingers, hugging his wrist, even when Adachi turns away completely after a slurred goodbye to Dojima and disappears back into the cold February night. The image it carves behind his eyes lingers long after him, twinkling like a phantom in the light of the hall.

Chapter Text

There’s a glow somewhere above, warm like early fall that flickers a harvest moon through swaying tree branches, but it hangs low, more a spotlight. Color seeps out with creeping tendrils into the darkness of the room, but it only illuminates the center, a halo around the outline of pale skin, shining reflective in the black tones of the sheets beneath it. Beyond the boundaries of where his knees fall against the mattress, a few inches to frame the shadowed crevices in the fabric folds from where weight falls on either side, there is only static-laden darkness, fuzzy and pulsating like the world itself has its eyes shut tight. Whatever audience exists, with their prying ears and bated breath, is suspended high above on the trapeze he’s made his home on, and now it’s him floating to the safety of ground, slow and nestled in watery inertia. Alone.

Not alone, alone, but alone in tandem, anchored by the warmth curled in the spaces between his fingers. A narrow expanse of bone and flesh is fit between his own with the ease of a glove, felt not so much in touch as in the energy the contact radiates in imperceptible atomic distance. His left hand’s sealed, lock and key, but his right hand’s free, and it traces the back of its fingers down the contours of the jawline beneath him. Each brush of his nails leaves a ghost of its own path in its wake, after images that fade long after each stroke of paint has been made.

It’s impossibly soft, the feel of his skin, like the sharp bones and tight screws that hold up the structure of his face have been loosened. Perhaps it’s through ritual, perhaps it’s like this—hours and hours with his body like a canvas, drawing out the poison from inside. He arcs down, a touch like moth wings on the base of his spine guiding him closer on marionette strings until his sense of body melds with the one beneath him, not skin but water, a pool that welcomes him in with seamless synergy.

He breathes, and feels the beat of the body’s heart in his lungs, takes his lips between his teeth to meld their air into one, exhale into inhale. Every part of him feels touched, where fingers come dance across his own back his cells remain suspended spinning in permanence until he’s a live wire, electricity in his shoulders, his hips, the smooth, delicate path of skin inside his thighs. But the feel of beating wings lies only in his chest, pulling him desperate into the whitest lights of all, blinking right back up at him.

“Tohru,” he says, knowing it not because he hears the echo, but because he feels his lips move, sees the man beneath him turn into the fingers curled in his hair. He arcs lower still, feeling the water envelop him deeper as he tastes his skin, kissing chlorine and metal from the sharp curves of his neck like he’s drowning for it, and he is, he is. “Tohru.”

“Yu.” It’s nothing he’s ever drank before, the spill of those syllables from his lips as he licks them back clean again. The rumble of his chest beneath him is like an ancient mountain stirring to life under the surface. “Please.”

He’s already giving him everything, everywhere in every way he knows how, but it’s not a plea for the tangible. It’s a desire that passes between them unspoken as a current, electric and driving, and he understands its language. He’s been speaking it his whole life, so it’s easy, so easy, to hold on tight with his left hand and use the right to trace the contours of his body. It spreads out beneath him in a map of roads he’s traveled a thousand times, cartography of peaks and valleys that sing on the wind when he touches them like it brings life anew. He digs in his teeth to the soft plane of his stomach, low where his hips rise to meet it, and he feels his skull break like river ice when fingers find hold on the nape of his neck, inhaling sharp into the first breath of spring.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, because it’s true, because he’s panting out the burn of a fire that’s spreading in his veins and he’s sure they can both feel it too, how it’s filling the room. “Let me take care of you.”

Those fingers in his hair trace cracks down the curve of his jaw, spider-web strings fanning out across his cheek. They dance across his lips, parting them so he can lick the salt from the tips, vital and biting. “Okay.”

He’s all sparks and kindling, and he drinks the water from the reservoirs of his skin as he travels down, down, until his lips wrap around a molten heat, familiar and jolting in his core. He inhales deep into the smoke of musk and need, licking through the push of his hips before submerging himself deep in the sound of his voice, crackling and parched. He savors it, savors him, slow like he’s moving through molasses as he teases down, down, until he’s so full of him he’s drowning in it, and it’s bliss, lost in the blurring edges of their bodies. He feels the pleasure of it as if it were his own, fingers in a desperate push-and-pull on the back of his head, wiping at the corners of his lips, clutching knife-mark nails into his shoulder, a whine in the air that reverberates like a choir.

He tastes like warmth, like melting, like a long-lost word on the back of his tongue impossible to find on anyone else’s skin, and he’s babbling like a river to the sea, “so good, mine, fuck,” and it sings. When he thinks he might finally run out of air from the force of it, storming heat coiled up into knots inside his stomach, he’s lapping up the last of him, seawater rolling out all over his tongue, down his chin, into the cavity of his chest. He’s suspended, drifting, but he’s pulled back in around his waist and when he finds land he’s sprawled out on the pillowing clouds of flannel sheets and lingering hints of drugstore shampoo, and he’s all over him. Heavy breath on his neck comes out in pants as thin, long fingers wrap around the muscle between his legs and trace down a vein, gripping even as his lips work gentle bites down his neck.

“It’s you,” he breathes, and it sets his nerves on fire, the way it falls across his ear like a sigh, like a confession. He doesn’t know how much closer to the precipice he can get from this, the hands and eyes and chest on him pulling him closer and closer to the drop-off into a chasm he can’t know, but needs the free fall of like the air he breathes, passing between the teeth and lips of another again. “I’m choosing you.”

He crashes into him, release cold and violent like a wave, tossing him deep into open water with an undertow the leaves him gasping and reeling and drenched, spinning with the aftershocks of vertigo on what feels like a loop that will never end, cascading angles of pleasure and panic and pain. When he comes to, he’s shock upright, panting and writhing on the sheets, but when he blinks and looks upon the shore, it’s a greyscale morning, dimmed only in the faint light of an early winter peeking through the blinds, dull and all-illuminating from the island of his futon.

Alone.

Heaving in a shaky sigh, he curls up with his knees to his chest, an uncomfortable stickiness in his boxers, and rubs at his eyes so hard he sees stars. It doesn’t help chase away the after images, Adachi’s neck bared against the sheets or the way his eyes shut tight, contorted in pleasure, and it drops a millstone in his chest so heavy he could scream. He still feels the inertia, the persistent heat of pleasure that pulled his subconscious through the dream, but it’s mixing with the draft from the window, and the cold wash of reality sends bile to the back of his throat. There’s a pit inside his stomach, and he has to put his head between his knees to steady himself, trying to focus on anything other than the Tohru echoing around his head, but it’s like a snare drum.

Eventually, the creeping hour and need to be clean outweighs his patience. When he pads his way to the bathroom, all he can do is brace for it as he slides a damp washcloth between his legs, forcing his eyes to stay open and take in his own haggard reflection in the mirror rather than lose himself in the delusion of another’s fingers. Despite his efforts, he feels himself twitch as he wipes himself clean, because even the dark circles under his own eyes spark a memory of someone else, and it aches like a bruise when he rinses his hands and touches them, feeling the thin skin give underneath.

He’s never missed a day of school, and he can’t start now on the first day of exams, but the pull to crawl back in bed and chase down that glowing room again is almost supernatural. Tohru. He’s never let him call him that, not since the start, and he’s never keened under it like praise, never gasped into Yu’s own first name like a prayer, never…

Yu has always been incredibly adept at inventing ways to torture himself. Even in dreams, it appears. His mouth traces the syllables of it one last time, not even with his own conscious permission, before he spins on his heel to turn away from himself and the naked want written across his face, too stifling to bear.

It’s not like exams are any reprieve, either. A sick part of him has always enjoyed testing for the simple reason that it distracts the noise in his head, but ever since he’s started this ride he’s on, they’ve lost their touch with repetition. Even the first year exams, which at least have some novelty, are too easy to keep his thoughts from meandering, despite his effort to give them due attention. Not even his friends, preoccupied with achieving the passing grades Yu knows they will, are able to give him respite from slipping into the waters of memory. He still hears echoes of his breath every time his eyes close.

The week passes slow, but dreamless, and Yu’s never been more grateful. The shock to his system must have been reverberating to cause such an abnormal silence—Yu’s always been a vivid dreamer—but he’s thankful for it in a way he thought he could never be. Still, it feels like a fugue of papers and pens and interjected hallucinations of ‘so good, mine’ and measured, polite smiles to people he wishes he could lean on. By the time Saturday rolls around, he forgets it’s supposed to be a relief.

He follows Yosuke and the girls to Junes after testing wraps up, and he’s glad for the chance to cover himself in their white noise, idle chatter of history questions and essay prompts filling the chill of February air. Even now, in this world with nothing yet tying them together, they’re extraordinarily tolerant of his quiet, allowing him to respond with hums and smiles and a sentence here or there, taking it and animating it like they always do.

It’s not really warm enough to sit outside, but Junes just got in new patio heaters, so Yosuke makes them do it anyway, sitting close on the bench two-by-two with coats still bundled up. The kiosk behind them, always so bustling over the summer, is open too, staffed by a bored-looking Saki Konishi tossing a hand warmer back and forth in her palms, a sign advertising hot chocolate at her side. Yosuke waves at her with unbridled enthusiasm, which is returned only with the barest jerk of her wrist, but he beams anyway.

“You ladies stay here,” Yosuke drawls across the table, rising to his feet. He misses, or pretends not to see, a pronounced roll of Chie’s eyes. “Come on, Yu, let’s go grab some post-exam celebration drinks.”

Yu nods, flexing gloved fingers in his pocket to regain some warmth as he braces himself for another awkward meeting with Yosuke’s heavily idealized version of Saki, one of many in his time. Still, there's relief in the fact that she’s alive at all this many weeks in, and he gives Yosuke a gentle smile as he follows him across the patio, gaze fixed on the flush across his friend’s cheeks.

He’s so wrapped up in Yosuke’s stuttering story about how she was hired, because the details change just slightly every time, that he doesn’t even have the time to warn him before he runs face-first into the back of another man ordering at the counter. Yosuke squawks, reeling back in a hasty apology, and Yu is about to gently offer his own before he looks to see narrow shoulders and uneven black hair, and the words leave him.

“It’s al—” Adachi starts to say, before he turns back around, little styrofoam cup of hot chocolate in hand, and fixes his eyes on Yu. They flicker over to Yosuke for a split second, narrowing, but only just barely before they’re back. “Oh, Dojima’s… Narukami.”

It’s no Yu, but it’s a marked improvement, one he barely has the ability to enjoy over the pounding in his chest. It takes him several seconds too long, but he shakes out his head and manages a clean, “I’m sorry, we weren’t paying attention.”

“Careful,” Adachi laughs, once, high and on the edge of forced. Yu feels heat creeping up his face, but even as he tries to swallow it down, Adachi’s still wearing his coat, and there’s a bit of color in his own cheeks from the cold, and he has to blink his eyes shut to keep the flood of images it conjures down and off his face. “I could have spilled my drink.”

“Did you?” Yu asks, trying to sound casual rather than genuinely concerned.

“No, thankfully.” Adachi turns his nose up in the air, and Yu has to look away as he takes a sip, because he’d find the column of his throat, and he’s already starting to feel too warm for these layers, let alone this patio. “But I could have.”

Yosuke, who Yu had shamefully almost forgotten was there and watching, sneaks past him to pull up to the counter, and Yu takes the opportunity to fall in line at his side, putting the smallest bit of precious distance between Adachi’s body and his. Feeling the pressure of two sets of eyes on either side, Yu hums and says, “Then you should be careful. Lots of brats like us out.”

“I’ll say.” Adachi rubs at his nose, and Yu’s hands curl around the counter with the realization he’s wearing his gloves, too. Somehow, in a moment of synergy that spawns irrational paranoia over the secrecy of his own thoughts, Adachi seems to realize this at the exact same time, their eyes falling to meet for just a beat before he turns his shoulders and puts his free hand back in his pocket, the other curling around his cup. “Well, I’m on duty today, so…”

“See you around,” Yu finishes, suddenly desperate for fresh air he can’t get with him this close, where all he can smell is chocolate and his apartment. He takes his own hands off the counter and cracks the knuckles, tense from their hold, and doesn’t remember to inhale until Adachi’s returned his small wave over his shoulder and disappeared back into the bulk of the supermarket.

The knots in his stomach don’t untie until Yosuke elbows him in the ribs, gentle, and draws his attention back to the stand, where Saki Konishi doesn’t look so much bored anymore as deeply impatient, her favorite expression to wear in Yosuke’s presence. He introduces them, and Yu falls back into the routine of his role, sliding gracefully into the pretense that they’ve never met, and Yosuke isn’t that much of a handful, no, not that bad at all really, four small cups, please.

When they’re walking away again, two containers of hot chocolate each in hand, Yosuke elbows him again and asks, “Who was that?”

Yu blinks, pretending to take a second to process what he means even though he’s well-aware. “Oh, just Dojima’s partner at the station.”

“The new one?” Yosuke asks, and Yu nods, a hint of recognition lighting up his face. “I’ve seen him around, now that you say it. You seem to know each other pretty well.”

Something heavy sears in his chest, and he masks it with a drink from the cup he’s claimed as his. “Dojima brings him around a lot.”

“Well, cool,” Yosuke says, and then they’re back down at the table again, and just as easy as everything is with them, that’s the last of it as far as they’re concerned.

They pick the conversation about school up again with the girls, and everything else gets lost in an idle swirl of hot chocolate and laughter, drawing him in like music to the embrace of the people he loves most, even if it’s a feeling he can’t dare express.

It doesn’t help the chill in the air, nor in the tips of his fingers, inches apart from the rest but miles away. He’s here, he wants to be here, but he can’t seem to get out from somewhere deep inside his head, lost in the folds between a world he left behind and a world he wants badly enough that he did.

On Sunday, he makes his way down to the shopping district, and seeks out Marie.

It’s not a conscious decision, really, but when he sees her outside the Velvet Room, he takes the relief that floods him as a sign.

“I’ve never seen snow here before you pulled us back,” she says mildly upon his approach, bundled up in a knitted plaid scarf and long black coat. She looks fully herself, furrowed eyebrows and chattering teeth and all. It’s still jarring to see someone so wholly recognizable, rather than a convincing doppelgänger five inches to the left of his memory. “It’s… cold.”

“Yes, it is that,” Yu smiles, not letting it falter when she does nothing to return it besides a slide of her eyes. He reaches in his bag for his umbrella and makes a show of pulling it up over both of them, even though it’s only a drizzle of snow still falling at best. It was worse earlier in the day and overnight, the whole of his room glowing bright pink and orange. “Wanna grab steak?”

Her eyes brighten at that, just a little, and it’s only then he realizes the darkened lines that fell across her face before it. They’re gone in a blink, though, and she takes a step forward even as she says, “I might have something better to do, you never know.”

Yu laughs small into a hum, adjusting the grip of his umbrella. “I thought you came out when Igor is bothering you. Unless you think I’ll bother you more?”

“No,” she decides with a roll of her tongue, bangs falling snow-dropped into her face. She adjusts them back with a shake of her head as she falls into step with Yu, hands too deep in her coat to fix it further. “Not yet.”

“I’ll buy yours,” he offers, like he doesn’t always.

The steak is chewy and cools off quickly in the open air—the stand has heaters too, but they don’t seem nearly as nice as Junes’—but she seems to enjoy it as voraciously as ever, and even years in, Yu is still unable to deny the meat’s strange charm. They eat in silence, mostly, until Marie pauses en-route to the last steak piece and seems to remember Yu’s there at all, a hum on her lips.

“So, February, huh?” She asks, pulling the piece up the stick with red-tipped fingers. “How’s that working out for you?”

Yu shrugs, attacking his skewer from the side, now that he’s down to the bottom as well, rather than risking getting the juice on his gloves. He makes a mental note to buy Marie a pair, too, but maybe not a kind so dear—she’d never be so careful—without skimping too much on quality.

“Cold,” he says, purposefully obtuse, before sighing and adjusting his approach. “Weird.”

“Okay,” she drawls, drawing out the vowel with a roll of her eyes that has Yu swallowing past a lump in his throat. “Let’s try another, then. How’s your one-man serial killer rehab program going?”

He expects it to be somewhere along those lines, but he still chokes on the end of the stick, wincing at its collision with the roof of his mouth. He swipes his tongue across, tasting for blood, but it’s just a dull throb. Not enough to justify delaying a response under the heat of her gaze, unmoving and watchful.

“I don’t know,” he settles on, nibbling the side of his steak to give himself just another quick second to think. “How’s your search for things going?”

She rolls her head to the side, hair flopping across her face as she taps her fingers on the grooved metal table, discarding the skewer into the trash beside it. “It’s not. Also, not what we’re talking about, but good try.”

Yu smiles, sheepish, never really that surprised to be caught by her of all people. He’s only able to keep the expression for a second though before it falters and he reaches up to adjust his scarf, folding into it a little for warmth. With a twist in his gut he realizes, not for the first time, just how much he’s missed her.

“I mean it,” he sighs after another breath of silence spent chewing on the last of his steak before he too discards the remains. In lieu of something to busy his hands with, he traces the lines on the table, only barely remembering to pull his eyes up to address her. “I think it’s too early still to know. I’ve been trying. I seem to have his attention, at least.”

Marie hums, and her face is always on the sharp edge of harsh, but Yu feels pinned underneath her eyes, the slant of her brows and the small, hard line across her lips. “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

It’s an obvious undercut, but it loses its bite considering Yu’s always made a habit of being his own worst critic first. “Yeah, but that alone isn’t new.”

“His affection, then,” Marie extrapolates, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out a sleeve of meat gum, delicately unwrapping a stick and placing it in her mouth. She pushes another stick forward from the pack with her nail and holds it out across the table, and even though Yu can’t stand those things, it feels like a peace offering, so he takes it. “But I guess that’s not new either.”

It tastes just as awful as he remembers, but he’s grateful for the chance to chew something again, even if the texture is the wrong sort of gooey. “No, it would be.”

Marie slides the pack back in her coat, snapping the gum with a click of her jaw. She leans her elbows on the table and props her chin down on the back of folded knuckles, sharp and proper like the girls in those western teen dramas she’s got downloaded on her phone for ‘research’. Yu frequently regrets facilitating that introduction.

“But you want him,” she infers, not a single hint of a question on her lips. “That’s why you’re doing this.”

Somehow, the twinge on his skin where her eyes scan it is enough to itch, and he feels a hand rise to his face as he turns away towards the stand, warm where it had been hiding under the scarf. The heat doesn’t fade, and within seconds, he has to turn back into it, grasping for the right words to say.

“I want him to be okay,” is what he eventually settles on, forcing his hand to lower back to the table. He smoothes the back of his gloved wrist with the finger pads of another, leather on leather. “I couldn’t shake the feeling he was wronged, and I couldn’t… I didn’t want to just give up on that.”

“The serial killer was wronged,” Marie deadpans, raising one of her hands to mime writing something in the air. “Noted.”

“You know what I mean,” Yu sighs, even though he doesn’t even know what he means half the time. Still, Marie’s eyes flash like she does, at least a little. “I felt like getting everything else right still meant leaving others behind. If I’m right about this, no one ever had to die at all.”

“You still left a lot behind,” she says, quiet, after too long a breath. Like Yu doesn’t know that. He parts his lips to object, to justify, to calm the frantic beating of his heart despite the déjà vu of this conversation between them, but Marie holds out a hand, soft, and it’s enough to snap him shut even before she folds it back down. “I know you’ve already answered this before, kind of. But I have to ask you outright.”

Yu swallows past the knot in his stomach, feeling acid creep up his throat. “Sure. Go for it.”

With an inhale, she pulls her head into her hands and rakes them up her face, pushing her damp hair back and blinking up at the greyed-out sky. She keeps her gaze straight up, even as she says, “Let’s say you can save him. He gets redeemed, no demonic possession, no body count, and you get to skip away into the sunset.”

There’s a pause, but Yu gets the feeling she’s not done, so he just says, careful, “Okay.”

“All’s well that ends well, you get the boy.” Intuition serves him well, but it doesn’t take a genius to know Marie always has one last jab rolled up her sleeve. With those words in the air, she lowers her head back down and stares until Yu is forced to catch her gaze, unblinking. “But, you lose everything else. He’s the only one you save. Your friends, me, everyone else…gone. Would you still do it?”

Yu blinks his eyes closed, wet snow falling on his cheeks from where the flakes had rested in his lashes, and he sees Adachi, as he always does, behind them. The only thing in his mind's eye, the only thing that’s been there all week, is the ghost of Adachi’s lips pressing against his, but it’s only a flutter of touch before it’s replaced by a hundred other swirling pictures, a hundred faces and moments and pieces of love, and when he opens his eyes again, he’s staring at one of them dead-on, and there’s only one answer. “No.”

He tried that, once; maybe not what Marie’s thinking exactly, but something similar. Something worse. One December, underneath the buzzing neon of the diner sign and falling snow, he locked his lips tight to the truth he knew on the tip of his tongue, and Adachi’s name was kept off their list, their suspicion sequestered. The fog rolled in, thick and black as smoke, and Yu let pages upon pages of Adachi’s haphazard handwriting catch fire, raining ash down at his feet.

“What if it was the only way to save him?”

Through the cloud of scorched paper, Adachi had grinned at him, less of an emotion and more of a marionette pull on his jaw, and leapt forward to catch Yu’s shoulders and press him up against the back wall of the interrogation room. When they kissed, like Yu distantly knew they would, it tasted like acid and blood, his bitter laughter filling the space between them and ringing vertigo in his ears.

“No. I know I wouldn’t.”

He didn’t even make it home before restarting the loop, that time.

He wishes for all the world he could read the look in Marie’s eyes right now, still slanted and caught somewhere deep in her own gears, but he can’t. They’ve been apart too long.

“Okay,” she breathes, and he feels the vowels shiver in the chill of the air. It cuts through his own layers, too, tracing his skin. “So that’s your line. You can do this, but not that.”

“Because it’s not too late,” he says, breathless, the words tumbling out of him beyond his control in their frantic truth. “I can still save everyone.”

He watches with bated breath as Marie slides a fingernail between her teeth, even redder than before and cracked dry from air exposure. She worries it between her lips, once, twice, before she says, damningly, “On your timeline.”

Yu wants to counter it, has something to counter it with, he swears, but just as he feels it bubbling out of his chest, there’s a flash of color in his periphery and it plummets back down to the depths of him, replaced with a punched-out, “Oh. Hey.”

Just like that, Yosuke and the girls saunter their way proper into their field of vision, the text he’d left unanswered in his back pocket suddenly absurdly heavy in his jeans. At the sound of his voice, they all turn in unison, and Yu watches motionless as Marie falls still at his side and Yosuke’s eyebrows arc wide, his dry lips parting.

“Yu,” he greets, crossing his arms over his chest as one of his brows falls from warm surprise into a familiar look of mild confusion. There’s a little hint of offense more put-upon than real, but not insignificantly genuine as a reflex. Yu at least has the good grace to act surprised. “You could have told us you were busy with a girl.”

“It’s not,” Yu starts, just as Marie puts a finger down her throat with an exaggerated gagging noise. “She’s my friend from the city. I forgot to check my phone before I left, sorry.”

Lying comes so natural to him, lately.

“Guys, this is Marie,” he offers as a consolation, to himself, more than anything. The air still feels too thick to insult her by pretending she doesn’t know their names, so he just adds, “These are my friends from school.”

“Charmed,” Marie offers a perfunctory wave, leaning her cheek into her palm. The tap of her fingers against her jawline is hidden to them by her hair, but Yu sees it plain. “Am I interrupting plans, Yu?”

He looks between the two parties, Chie and Yukiko giggling behind their hands and Yosuke squaring his shoulders like he does when he tries to look tough to himself, and folds his hands. “No, it’s my bad for not checking.”

There’s a tight twitch to Yosuke’s lips, but he’s all smiles when he says, “No big deal. We see each other all the time. Tomorrow?”

Yu can hardly nod fast enough, the force of it stretching along his neck and sending a shiver down his spine. “Absolutely.”

Yosuke slides a hand back through his hair, looking back at Chie and Yukiko who offer waves and pleasant introductions of their own, not too exuberant, but just the appropriate level of polite. Underneath the table, Yu digs his nails into the lining of his gloves, and hates himself for feeling a rush of relief when they continue on down the path of the shopping district, their voices floating down the shallow hill as they go.

Once they’re gone around the corner from sight, Yu turns to Marie, feeling distinctly like a wanted man awaiting a verdict. It’s the flipside of her familiarity, after all—her ability to draw conclusions on a much wider array of information than he’s used to anymore.

“Not the same, is it?” This time, though, there’s something softer in her voice, the edges on her face smoothed out into something that cuts him even deeper to look at. He glances at her eyes, once, before he has to look away, counting the snowflakes as they fall slow on the backs of his hands.

“No,” he says, quiet. “It’s not.”

He’s greeted with silence at that, because there’s nothing really to say. The damage must speak for itself, he figures. The sky shifts above them, cloud over cloud, and finally, Marie says, “It’s getting dark. I should go.”

Yu’s lips are numb when he tries to bite around the word, but he feels it echo in the air, so he must say it. “Yeah.”

Slowly, he follows her up to his feet, watching as she brushes snow from her coat and reaching up to her shoulder for a patch she missed, his lips cracking with the effort of a small smile. She returns it, the motion flickering across her face and drawing his attention away from the elbow that makes his way into his ribcage, gentle but firm. Warmth spills from the point of contact, up through his chest where his lungs have been constricting his air for what feels like hours, letting them breathe full again, just once.

“Hey,” she says, low under her breath as she takes a step back, adjusting the collar of her jacket. “I’m always here if you need me, alright?”

When she turns to leave, he can’t help but feel like his thoughts go with her, disappearing somewhere down past the riverfront into the fields beyond. “Alright.”

Sometimes, Yu gets in these moods where he doesn’t want to be anywhere.

It’s a symptom of a larger problem, one he thought he’d already solved. It’s the feeling of motion without moving, the need for everything and nothing all at once. It’s putting off dinner for hours because nothing sounds even remotely appetizing, it’s staying completely silent in a crowded room because the thought of verbalizing any of this thoughts exhausts and repulses him, it’s doing nothing but reading a textbook cover to cover because he doesn’t want the burden of picking something new to fill his time long after his homework is done. It’s revving up a car that won’t start, over and over again. He remembers the frustration well as a body memory that haunted most of his earlier teens. It felt like so many of the other byproducts of isolation—his lack of connection trapping him in a spiral of his own thoughts that had nowhere to go but down. It's been better since he’s been in Inaba, these past few years.

But he’s still adrift with the desperate loss of having nowhere he can stand to go, sometimes, and it’s gotten worse with each repetition. In the later loops, there were nights so bad he felt like he couldn’t breathe, pacing down Central Street at dusk because there was nowhere he wanted to stop and just be. Every time he imagined himself existing somewhere—his room, the riverbank, the dish pit of the bar, the hospital—the image made him itch, something about it too uncomfortable to bear. Often, he’d just end up on the riverbank anyway, baitless pole in the water and feeling wrong, but it was less of a decision and more of a temporary solution, a bandaid over some gaping crack.

It’s been a while, but he feels it now that he’s alone on Central Street again: that familiar feeling of perpetual motion in sun-dried molasses. He squints his eyes shut at the now-faded image of Marie disappearing past the corner, gloves up to his face, and sighs warmth into his palms.

There’s no time to just do nothing, anymore, so he forces his legs to move, and tries not to think about where they go. He looks at his snow-slicked shoes, watching one step after another tread across asphalt and concrete, then leave indents into grass and snow, counting each and letting the number fade.

By the time he looks up at the red arches of the shrine, he feels almost back in his body. It’s quiet, the slow creep of dusk swirling pink into deep grey skies, and the young children who play here by day have long packed up their balls and nets for the night. Aside from the slight breeze, Yu stands alone by the offering box, hands in his pockets.

Right on cue, the shadow of a fox draws across the snow, and the creature leaps down from the rooftops to land lithe at Yu’s feet, stretching its body out long with a yawn. It looks up with shining wide eyes, and it’s so clear, somehow, every time they meet, that it’s the only other creature in this world outside the Velvet Room that knows what he’s been up to. Perhaps that’s why he’d been avoiding it outside the TV as of late.

It seems to know this, too, swishing its tail and dodging Yu’s hand with an upturned nose when he reaches down to pet it. He can’t blame it, really.

“I’m sorry,” he sighs, dropping down into a crouch to reach for it again, more gently this time. He manages to catch it behind the ears, and the fox blinks in apathy, but keens into it just a little anyway when Yu gets his nails involved, scratching at the fur on its head. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s been too long.”

It’s an amazing listener, this thing, and so startlingly human in the way it turns its head and sits upon the snow, its full attention so clearly drawn to him. It’s uncanny enough in that alone, but he’s forgotten the effects of its inhumanness are much more jarring, specifically the way those little black eyes seem to draw out a supernatural honesty from him that hits like a spell.

Maybe that’s why he’s been avoiding it.

“I’m afraid I’m ruining things,” he tells it, bangs falling across his face as he too takes a seat on the concrete, just steps away from the shrine stairs but too far to bother moving just to sit there. He pulls his knees wide to his chest, leaning in between them as he continues to pet the creature. “Maybe I want too much.”

The fox looks up at him, imploring, and Yu exhales, smoothing its ears gently down with his thumb as he scratches at the underside of its chin. Its tail kicks up snow lightly as it sweeps across the grass, cocking its head up at him. His friends have asked him how they communicate once or twice, and it’s difficult to answer. Yu speaks to it, and it’s not like he hears anything in reply, not even in his head, but he feels its intention and response somewhere in the back of his awareness, and he responds to it automatically without thought. It’s an energy, more than anything, and whether or not his ability to intuit it is unique to whatever power he has, it’s real enough to satisfy him and then some.

“Yeah,” he mutters, lowering his knees down in front of him slightly so the fox can hop up on his leg with its front paws, sniffing the air. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time, either.”

It looks at him like it thinks that’s funny, but in the way that at least makes him feel laughed with instead of at, because it is a little funny. In its own way. It hops back down and makes a tight circle chasing its tail in the snow, and it breaks the tension in Yu’s chest, slightly. He fixes its bandana when it falls askew from the motion, laughing.

“I think…” Yu begins, then tapers off when the fox looks back, staring up in quiet attention once more, its tail tucked around its body. “No, I am trying to do the right thing. I’m just not sure if I really know how.”

He feels something rough brush against his glove, and he looks down to see the fox licking the back of his hand, a display of overt affection he’s never witnessed from it before, just once and quick before it blinks back up at him, pawing at his leg to get him to pet it again. He relents, moving to scratch behind its ears once more.

Whatever rises up in his subconsciousness at that, it makes him hum and say, “Maybe so.”

On his way back out of the shrine, just as he’s about to turn back down towards his hill and to the Dojima residence, a light still on in the window of Tatsumi Textiles stops him, and he lingers.

It’s past closing time by an hour or so, and upon further inspection, the light is coming from the far back of the shop, the employee area past the display desk that Yu knows from experience is roomier than it seems with several sewing machines lined up for in-shop work. It’s not too unusual of a sight, but with his face up against the glass, he can see the figure inside belongs to Kanji as opposed to his mother, and that is a far rarer one, enough to make Yu approach the door in curiosity.

Before he can even get too far towards approaching it, Kanji spots him in the window. Yu shirks away, suspicious he’s lost his chance to observe now that he’s been caught, but instead, Kanji leaps to his feet and crosses the length of the store towards the door, a small parcel in his hand. Patiently, Yu watches as he fumbles around in his pocket for the keys and makes out a swatch of pink fabric underneath his hands, but nothing more before he tosses open the shop door and beckons Yu closer.

“Oh, hey, man,” he calls out in a hushed whisper tone, conspiratorial as he hunches over the door handle and peers up and down the street. “I’m glad I caught you. I got something for ya.”

Using his own body and Yu’s as a cover, he gathers in close and slowly unveils the parcel from behind his back. Although it’s wrapped up poorly in the shop’s signature parchment wrapping paper, Yu can clearly see the head of a hand-sewn doll inside, the dress in Nanako’s favorite color and the face complete with tiny sewn-on blush prints. The sight makes him beam on impulse, and something manic must show on his face because Kanji blinks and turns red, hiding behind the sleeve of his jacket with a hard frown.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he barks, jumping a little in the shoulders at how loud his voice echoes through the empty street. He shirks back down, softer. “I know it’s…”

“It’s beautiful,” Yu cuts him off, gently taking the package from his hands. Out of respect, he doesn’t completely unwrap it in front of him, but he uses the utmost care in folding it into his chest, brushing back some of its yarn-sewn hair. “You’re really quite talented at this.”

Yu didn’t think it was physically possible, but he turns even darker at that, the furrow in his brows wavering somewhat as he takes count of Yu’s expression. He keeps it open and warm as he knows how, steadying himself with all the versions of his moment he’d practiced out before. Slowly, some of the fight seems to drain from his face, but enough of it remains for the shadow of a bite to still come through when Kanji says, “It’s nothing.”

He starts to turn back into the shop, but Yu stops him with a hand on his shoulder, feeling the way he startles slightly beneath it. He removes it slowly to not spook him further, charmed as ever by how Kanji is, as he’s always been, all bark and bite only when it counts. Before he can run again, Yu reaches into his pocket for his wallet and counts out a handsome payment in cash, depositing it in the hand Kanji has half-closed around the door.

“Thank you for your time,” Yu says, tucking the parcel into the breast of his coat to keep it dry and warm from the cold. “I’ll be in touch, I’m sure.”

As Yu spins on his heel to make his way back down the hill, he leaves an utterly perplexed Kanji over his shoulder in his wake, but he’s not all too surprised by that reaction. He can’t find it in him to be too bothered by it, either.

Back home, to his relief, Nanako is still up at her perch by the TV, teacup in hand, a smile drawing across her face at the sound of the door. She stares up at him, still caught behind a veil of shyness that casts across them when they’re alone but palpably thinned even in the short few weeks he’s been here, and waits patiently as he shakes the snow from his coat and hangs it up in the closet. He’s careful to hide the parcel with his back as he slides his boots off on the mat, placing them alongside hers.

“Is your dad home?” Yu asks over his shoulder, backing up before switching the hold on the doll with a practiced pass to conceal it behind him as he turns to face her.

“Nuh uh,” Nanako shakes her head, placing her tea on the table. “Just me.”

“Cool,” Yu replies, taking conspicuous steps closer as he catches Nanako eyeing the placement of his hand and craning her neck to see around it. He adjusts accordingly, preferring to keep it hidden for just a second longer. He lowers himself down to kneel on the kotatsu, and says, “I have something for you.”

Even as she blatantly caught on to his ruse, her eyes still go genuinely wide at that, a blush falling across her cheeks. “Really? For me?”

Finally, Yu pulls his hand out from behind his back and delicately unwraps the paper surrounding the doll, admiring the craftwork—expertly sewn with careful details and lively glass eyes—under the full light for the first time for just a second before holding it out between them with a gentle lift. “For you.”

“Oh, wow!” Nanako takes it from his hands with just as much care as he’d shown it and holds it up above her head, the shy smile across her face breaking into something unguarded and open in its joy, squeezing her eyes closed as she holds it into her chest. When she opens her eyes, she meets his and beams. “I love it! Thank you!”

“I had a friend make it,” Yu explains, leaning his elbow on the table and watching her adjust its hair over the fall of his bangs, uneven and damp. Still, he’s drying out fast under the light of the table and her warmth, already feeling his heartbeat slow in its safety. “I wanted to get you a gift, too. You’re basically like my little sister now, right?”

If her expression was bright before, it’s nothing compared to what falls over her now. What it lacks in its unabashedness—it’s a little more guarded, a little self-conscious in the rise of her brows—it makes up for in what it radiates, a fragile light that glows off of her in waves. These tokens of his affection are only fractions of what he would give to her if he could, and his chest tugs at the sight of her before him, tiny gears calculating how to take this message. It’s the earliest he’s ever said something like this, at any rate.

After only a beat in silence, she says, quiet but strong, “Really?”

Yu sends all the love he can muster in a single glance and replies, “Really.”

Nanako holds the doll tight to her chest, glancing down to the bow sewn delicately in its hair and back up to Yu again. She twists a tiny string of yarn-hair around her finger and asks, “Does that mean I can call you big bro?”

A dam in his chest he didn’t even know he’d been holding onto breaks at that, and he exhales a pressure that’s been lodged in his chest for days, inhaling down into his core for what feels like the first time. There’s a delicate hope here left in the air he breathes between them, and for all his lives, he just prays he won’t crush it.

“Yeah. You can.”

The days creep on, and so does the all-too-slow realization that it’s all been leading up to this. Whatever he’s doing, this is the final version of it. That much is clear.

The more time that crawls by, the more Yu is swiftly coming to the conclusion that adopting this mindset might be the only way to stay sane at all. With the realization, it seems obvious, and it’s not so much that he wasn’t aware of it before—the permanence of this world was made apparent to him from the start, after all—but it’s more that it’s a finality, now set into stone in his soul: this is a reality he can no longer escape from, rather than a hypothetical.

There’s a certain addiction, he’s found, in the ability to start over. Every day, part of him expects to wake back up in April, and every day he doesn’t is another day he can’t. Bit by bit, he’s beginning to do the math, and he starts to wake up and ‘x’ every day on the calendar, like he always used to. The permanent marker on the shelf by its side is a little dusty from disuse, but it feels great to slide it across the square again. He’s always gotten satisfaction from coloring in the lines.

There’s still an echo of Tohru rattling around somewhere in the back of his skull, but he keeps himself busy. His afternoons fill with job applications and attempts to cajole Naoki Konishi into acknowledging his presence from the halls, audits of sports teams and band practices, snippets of his school friends spent hurried and spinning in the spaces. By night, he walks the halls of a hospital and attempts at awkward small-talk with his uncle, with middle-school math lessons and walks by the riverbank filling what remains.

Sometimes, in between, he catches glimpses of Adachi in the aisles of Junes, or under the glow of the gas station neon lights. While he always stops to chat at the sight of him, his irises stay colored and light no matter how close he gets, and something within them tells Yu not to push, not quite just yet. He’d ignore those signs, like he’s become so accustomed to over time, but no matter how well he tries to tune his ear to the gossip about town, the whispers stay quiet, and the TV is silent at night. No static, no noise. For now, he’ll let it be.

Each morning, he wakes up and makes another black ink ‘x’ through the boxes until he’s halfway down the February page. While it’s stayed cold, it’s been a while since the last proper snow, and on rare occasions, the sun has begun to peek out through the clouds and melt some of what’s remained. His days and nights feel breathless, but in a way he’s missed, the momentum of each activity connecting him to the next, pushing him forward and forward like gliding across ice, step into step.

Once or twice, he makes the mistake of letting it feel like normal, so he really has no one but himself to blame when it takes him off guard.

Still, it feels like it could be any day at all when Yu finds himself torn away from staring out the window on a grey mid-February morning to the tap of Chie’s hand on his shoulder, perfectly oblivious to the magnitude of what she’s about to change. When it comes, it’s like a rush of cold water, sending every nerve alight and alert like the very first day.

“Hey,” she asks, and before it’s even out of her mouth, Yu feels the gravity shift around him. “Have you ever heard of the Midnight Channel?”

Chapter Text

Yu does what he’s done nearly two dozen times over now, and lies.

It’s the same lie as always, a blank-faced innocent plea of ignorance, but looking at Chie now that he’s out of the revolving loops and into the eye of the storm, it feels like a wholly different one. He’d gotten so good at it by the end, how to intonate the denial and keep his hands folded, that the sweat that immediately slicks his palms takes him back to the start where he could barely keep it in. It’s not a struggle to lie anymore, but he can feel his pulse rising, unsteady with the draft of winter air floating in through the window.

“No,” Yu says, even, breathing it in. “What is it?”

The details are the same, but it’s like standing on a trap door waiting for it to change, listening to every word of the explanation roll into the next for a drop in cadence that never comes. Underneath the desk, Yu’s nails dig thin rings into the flesh of his palms, but on the outside, he simply nods, a vague form of interest falling from his lips.

Yeah, sure, sounds interesting, whatever. Same as it always does—never mind the thrum of his pulse pressing at the insides of his wrists, his blood pumping faster than it’s moved in a year. Never mind that it’s too soon by a mile. Never mind the drizzling rain. He catches her eyes and forces himself to laugh along with her, because it’s so frivolous to them at the start, and he wishes he could grasp onto it.

At best, it’s just a sneak peek of your soulmate in the middle of the night after all, what’s the harm in that? He’s always been a proponent of getting this ball rolling with them sooner rather than later, pushing the envelope of his realistically expressible approval, but now, he just swallows past the lump in his throat and states the obvious: he too will try it tonight.

“It’s supposed to stop raining by the evening,” Yosuke supplies, leaning up against Yukiko’s empty desk. Another night of inn duty. “Tomorrow though, it’s supposed to stick around all day.”

“Tomorrow, then,” Chie decides, and with that, she pulls the straps of her backpack up and nudges at Yu’s, still on the floor. It takes him a moment, but he eventually registers the movement, reaching down to pick it up before something breaks. “We’ll reconvene.”

Just like that, they expect Yu to follow them out the door like they haven’t shifted the entire paradigm, and his footfalls are heavy and slow in their wake. He frequently envies their ignorance.

Both Chie and Yosuke are busy after school. Even though it’s Monday, Yosuke still has work, as he does on every holiday. It’s Valentine’s Day, not much of anything—Yu would have forgotten it if it weren’t for the small mountain of chocolate deposited on his desk throughout the day—but it’s a disappointment now that Yu’s hopes of Yosuke providing distraction are dashed. Still, he follows him to Junes, the weekly grocery list forming in his head around a bar of chocolate he’ll snag for Nanako, just to commemorate a holiday in a small way with her.

“Sure you don’t want to sling on an apron and help out?” Yosuke asks as they approach. The skies are already starting to thin out by small degrees even on their walk between the school and the department store. Yu can’t remember if Yosuke’s made an attempt to court his labor before in this loop, but if he hadn’t, he’s particularly shameless about it. Yu likes it, really. It feels honest.

There’s a restless part of him that’s already close to accepting it just for the sake of having something to do, and the second he catches Yosuke’s eyes, the open-faced pleading in them breaks Yu down into grains of sand, as it so often does. “Sure.”

“Brilliant,” Yosuke grins, his expression changing in a flash to his particular brand of mega-watt relief and gratitude. If Yu cared more, he’d wonder how many labor laws this place breaks on a daily basis, but his priority is, and has always been, helping Yosuke not bear the brunt of them where he can, so he’ll take his pay under the table without complaint. More often than not, he gives it right back to him anyway.

Inside, Junes is bustling, notably so for this early in the afternoon. Before Yu even finishes setting his bag down, Yosuke’s tying an apron around his waist and rambling instructions around the flow of employees around them, none of them giving Yu a second glance.

“Sorry for dragging you into this,” Yosuke adds at the tail end of his breathless explanation about which aisles to stand in and which sales need to be rotated. “Ad change on a holiday is always a nightmare.”

“I get it,” Yu nods, even though he doesn’t. It’s just something he’s heard Yosuke complain about a lot, so he figures it must be a pain. “I’m at your service.”

Smoothing down the creases of Yu’s apron, Yosuke blinks up at him like he’s seeing him in a new light—the unkind and blinding fluorescents of this tiny backroom, to be precise—and flashes him a lopsided grin, laughing once in a short exhale. “Hey, you’re a pretty reliable guy.”

Yu’s so close to reaching his hand out and ruffling his hair back into place, but he can’t, not yet. “I try.”

With a rough estimate of how long he’ll need him—not more than a few hours tops, Yosuke assures multiple times—Yu’s unleashed out into his designated section of the store. The produce section and surrounding few aisles are, as Yosuke insists, incredibly straightforward, but it wouldn’t have mattered where he was put. He knows the entire store inside and out after all, as a customer and as a sometimes emergency employee. But he keeps that to himself.

Work at Junes is nothing exciting, just a lot of standing and looking vaguely knowledgeable, really, but pointing out the different types of peppers to grandmothers gives him something to do, and in the rare moments no one is fluttering around him, he can go back to organizing stacks of fruit. The nice thing about working here, Yu has found, is that it’s easy to turn off his thoughts and just get lost in the motion and noise around him, to slip on one of his more automatic masks and point and smile in the direction of bonito flakes.

It’s so easy, in fact, that Yu all but misses the subtle change in atmosphere and foot traffic, or the increased curious rumors that hail in the telltale arrival of the local camera crews, until he looks up to see a field microphone hanging above the heads of the crowd. He pauses his arrangement of baby carrots and glances around the store to see Yosuke high up on a ladder with a price gun in his teeth but few other employees within eyesight, and when Yu glances back in the direction of the approaching camera crew, they seem to be locked on to his own location.

It’s not unusual for the broadcast station to be found here. It’s a small town with no news, after all, at least not yet, and a major ad change at the only notable general store in town might as well be a breaking headline.

A gear or two turns in his brain, but he doesn’t have too long to contemplate it before he has to smooth down his apron and roll his shoulders back, just in time to hear one of the network employees call out, “Young man, do you work here?”

“Yes,” Yu replies, because for the day, he does. “How can I help you?”

“We’re doing a special on your fantastic new sales.” One of the news anchors Yu recognizes from the local station presses out of the throng of crewmembers, microphone in hand and TV-ready smile plastered on. Customers are beginning to gather around them with whispers and murmurs, held back only by another crew member with his arms out, but Yu can hear the tinge of confusion poking out from the white noise. “Care to explain what jaw-dropping steals customers can expect to find this week?”

Yu clears his throat, and in the second that takes, his eyes flicker over to where Yosuke is now swinging half-off the ladder with his eyes wide and panic clear on his face, but Yu just shakes his head, once, and smiles before facing the cameras once again. “Of course.”

Even if Yosuke hadn’t told him earlier, Yu recites it from memory with ease. Aside from the specials on chocolate and candy, Junes ad changes are cyclical, and as Yosuke has explained before in other loops, rotate based on preset lists of items. Yu keeps his voice clear and crisp, standing tall and professional, and relays it just as it’s been told to him.

“Wow,” the announcer cheeses after he’s done, drawing it out to the point Yu is almost a bit offended at the presentation. “Pretty knowledgeable for a new kid in town! You are, aren’t you?”

“Relatively.” Yu’s first instinct is to sigh, but he bites it back, because the cameras are still rolling, and for better or worse he’s quite used to the schlocky flair the local news brings to its reporting. “Any other questions on the sales?”

“Nope, I think we got it,” one of the other executives calls from the back of the crew. The crowd of shoppers has pulled closer in the moments since Yu had last looked up their way. “That’s a wrap.”

Without so much as a mild thank you, the camera crew disperses back into the throng of the crowd, leaving no one to keep them from pushing forward and bringing their congregation over to Yu now, dozens of eyes peering up at him in bold-faced interest. He winces, but tries to keep it to the corners of his lips as the first presses forward, suddenly very interested in asking him the location of red bean paste.

Thankfully, his savior swoops in within moments. Yosuke hops off the ladder and all but sprints across the aisles to him, price gun now thankfully stashed safely away in his apron pocket. He cuts through the crowd expertly, dodging elbows and purses until he’s at Yu’s side and pulling at his wrist, waving apologetically to the shoppers gathered around him.

“This guy’s late for a break,” he calls out over their heads, pulling Yu in the direction of the break room door. “Sorry!”

Yu sends him a grateful smile, but keeps his mouth shut until they’ve safely made it through back to the employee break room, the door securely closed behind them.

“I am so sorry,” Yosuke pants, breathless from nearly running the remaining distance of the store. Yu just shrugs, watching as Yosuke fusses with the desk chair until he can slide it under Yu’s legs. He’s not too fatigued, all things considered, but he takes it anyway. “I totally forgot they were coming our way today.”

“It’s okay,” Yu says, because it is. It might be better than okay, or maybe worse. There’s no real telling. “I don’t mind.”

“You didn’t have to take that,” Yosuke frowns over his shoulder, a deep crease between his eyes that warms Yu with the clear, genuine concern written inside it. “You could have sent them my way.” He pulls at the cabinets, ruffling around until he finds a crate of little juice boxes, tossing Yu one over his shoulder.

Yu shrugs, crossing his legs, then sticks the straw through and takes a sip. The juice is lukewarm, but it’s white plum, and it’s surprisingly refreshing. They usually keep some sort of box like this in here, or at least Yosuke does. “It was fine.”

“Didn’t know you were so good at public speaking, though.” Yosuke turns around and flashes him a small, uneven grin, leaning up against the counter. There’s a row of posted schedules to the wall on Yu’s side, a bunch of the dates crossed out and adjusted in what looks like Yosuke’s handwriting. “Who’da thought?”

“I’m in drama club,” Yu supplies with a shrug.

“A man of many layers,” Yosuke appraises, pulling the ad gun out of his apron to swing it around by the loop with his finger, and Yu pulls back in his chair just ever so slightly. Yosuke pauses and looks down at his watch, humming. “You can probably go, honestly. The hard part’s mostly done.”

“You sure?” Yu asks, rubbing his slick palms subtly on the front of his apron. “I can stay.”

Yosuke shakes his head, sweaty bangs falling across his forehead. “Nah, you’re good,” he dismisses with a wave of his hand, before his eyes widen, and he holds up a single finger with a flourish. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Yu watches him go, and only when the door closes behind him does he let himself fully collapse into the chair, sucking down the rest of his juice in one long sip before tossing the box into the nearby trash and staring up at the ceiling. The lights are some of the brightest and ugliest he’s ever seen, and he’s always hated how his skin looks underneath them, sickly and pale. He’s never been on TV, but he doubts their camera lights will be any kinder.

He’s never been on TV, but…

Before he can delve too deep into that particular train of thought, the door bursts open like Yosuke’s ran all the way there and back again, and he looks hurried when he’s back inside, a full plastic bag in his hands.

“Figured I’d give you something for your trouble,” Yosuke explains, slicking a hand back through his hair as he holds the bag out to Yu, who sits up to take it gently. Scanning the insides, there are several bags of individually wrapped chocolate stacked up, along with a few expensive-looking bars of chocolate surrounding them. “Since these are going on sale anyway, I thought maybe Nanako or some of the kids at your daycare might like it.”

“This is perfect,” Yu smiles up at him, genuine. He’s always worried it’s just a little on the edge of too warm, but if it’s beyond what Yosuke expects from him now, he doesn’t show it, offering his own picturesque smile right back. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you, for real,” Yosuke insists, crossing over the room and gesturing for Yu to stand up. He complies, setting the bag of chocolate down on the chair and reaching for the strings of his apron, but Yosuke’s on him before he can blink, deftly undoing the knot behind his back and placing the apron on a nearby hook with a single motion. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Yu just laughs at that, a little awkward, and picks up the bag with the rest of his belongings, his face gratefully hidden in shadow for him to smooth down the little quirk in his expression before coming back up, slinging the bag around his wrist.

“Well,” Yu hedges over his shoulder, reaching for the door. “I try my best.”

Yu means to go home after that, he really does, but he makes the mistake of going out through the airlock rather than the patio to avoid ice-slicked stairs, and just as he’s making his way past the elevator, he sees a familiar silhouette out beyond the vendor stands, all slouched thin shoulders and uneven black hair. He weighs the chances of ducking back inside and going the other way, but only cosmetically, because he knows before he even entertains it that there’s no way he’ll let himself. He’s always had a hold on him like that—or maybe Yu just lets him.

Either way, Adachi doesn’t see his approach until he’s right up on him and Yu spots the source of his unusual preoccupation: a slight, familiar old woman, a bag of leeks around her wrist and mouth moving a mile a minute.

She doesn’t stir at his arrival, but Adachi does, catching him out of the corner of his eye and reeling a step back, maybe just as an excuse to create some distance. He may not even be aware of it himself, but there’s a silent pleading in his eyes that Yu can’t help but answer with a fond, thin-lipped smile, taking his place at the man’s side.

“I’ll make the root tough,” the old woman says, glasses falling down the narrow bridge of her nose as she still takes no notice of the newcomer standing at Adachi’s side. He’s shifting on his feet, hands in his suit jacket pockets, and it’s a little endearing despite it all, as it always is, to see him so off-center and torn. It makes him look so young. “Just how you like it, right Tohru?”

“Eh?” He asks, even though he and Yu both know full well he heard her just fine. Their eyes slide to meet as if to prove that point, but Adachi looks away again on contact, hurried and scratching at the back of his head. “Sure, sure, yeah.”

“You simply must come,” she insists, taking a step closer at a speed unfit for her frail frame, bag of leeks swinging dangerously close to hitting Adachi with the motion. “Are you free tonight?”

This time, when Adachi looks at Yu on reflex, he doesn’t pull away like he’s been burned. Instead, he flickers his eyes between the two of them as he pulls at his tie, and maybe Yu lets him struggle for a few seconds just for the view, but he doesn’t let it last too long.

“I think we had plans tonight, unfortunately,” Yu says, smooth as he takes a step closer to Adachi, the distance between them now distinctly familiar instead of respectful. Only then does he manage to catch the old woman’s attention, glancing over to him with the fresh-faced, genuine surprise befitting a newcomer to the conversation. He’s talented at going unnoticed in general. “Didn’t we?”

For a second, Adachi just blinks at him, wide-eyed with his hands frozen over his tie, before he finally seems to process his words and snaps into action, clearing his throat and nodding vigorously. “Yeah, that’s right. Plans.”

“What a shame,” the old woman bemoans, taking a step back and readjusting the leeks in her bag with a soft smile. Despite how many times this exact situation has transpired, Yu finds she’s looking between the two of them now with an expression he doesn’t quite recognize, and it makes him feel a bit too seen, swallowing past a lump on his throat. “Next time, then. Take care of yourself, Tohru.”

“Yeah,” Adachi mutters, rubbing a hand over his short bangs, glistening with beads of sweat caught under the overhead lights. The sun is already starting to set outside behind them through the windows, winter still long through the month. “Next time.”

Out of grace, somehow Yu manages to summon the patience to wait until the old woman has disappeared out the door and beyond the hill outside before he turns to Adachi, slow and purposeful, and says, “Tohru, huh?”

It’s not quite the same thrill as saying it for himself would be, but he still feels something at being able to wrap his lips around the word and say it aloud at all. In turn, Adachi’s reaction isn’t as full-bodied and vulnerable as he craves, but he does raise an eyebrow at it, a color to his neck that he hides with a hand.

“Yep.” Adachi snaps his jaw shut, shrugging with only a vague pull and fall of his bony shoulders. “She’s senile. Thinks I’m her son or something.”

Yu hums, non-committal. “Seems like a chore.”

In reality, he thinks she’s lovely, if a bit over-talkative, and her daikon is quite good if one likes the roots tough, at least from the few times it’s ended up in Yu’s hands from charity. However, part of handling Adachi, Yu knows, is not calling his bluff on his own softer emotions, at least not so soon.

As predicted, he just snorts through his nose and cracks his neck. “I’ll say,” he sighs, rolling his eyes down where they fall onto Yu. He blinks, seeming to take him in for the first time, gaze traveling lazily up and down his frame until they settle on the bag in his hands. “What do you have in there?”

A wicked, risky sort of idea pops into his head at that, and he stomps down a reflexive grin with a bite and a duck of his head as he shuffles around in his bag. It’s nonsensical maybe, but the rush the thought alone gives him is enough to overpower that handily, and with a flourish he pulls out one of the bars, marbled white and milk chocolate with raspberry.

“Chocolate,” Yu explains, holding out the bar in front of his inscrutable expression. “Have one.”

“Where’d you get all of this, some poor girl in your class?” Adachi curls his lips, and Yu doesn’t miss the way his nose twitches when he does, involuntary and oddly adorable every time. “No thanks, I don’t need to be your regift victim.”

Yu shakes his head, bangs flopping in front of his face. “Nah, I helped out here today and they gave me some Valentine’s Day stock as thanks.”

“Still,” Adachi mutters, eyeing the chocolate as if it were a fully-loaded bomb with only seconds on the clock, wary and a little bit panicked. “That’s for girls, you know. It’s weird.”

“No it’s not,” Yu insists, adjusting his shoulder so the bag pulls further open across his wrist, revealing their insides as Yu idly shuffles through them with his free hand, angling so Adachi can see. “I’m giving most of it to Nanako. I have tons, so take it.”

Slowly, as if it still might bite, Adachi keeps his eyes trained on him with quirked-up brows as he takes the bar with the tips of his fingers, holding it out in front of him with a frown as he inspects the packaging. “Guys don’t give guys chocolate.”

“I do,” Yu shrugs, trying to look casual in that fine line between having no idea what he’s doing and having every idea, just like always. “It’s not a big deal. Like I said, I have way too much not to share. You can pretend it’s from a girl, if it makes you feel better.”

“No,” Adachi counters, surprisingly fast, breathy like there’s a force behind it he drained at the last second. He deepens his frown, almost comical in its contours, but slides the bar into the pocket of his jacket slung around his arm. “If you want to look like a freak, whatever, I’ll take it.”

Yu laughs at that, because he’s so funny without meaning to be at all. “It’s a little too late for me to be worried about that, don’t you think?”

The sound of it takes Adachi off-guard, and he looks at Yu with a crumpled up, confused sort of expression, mouth parted soft as the corners of his lips twitch. After a second, he too lets out a laugh, just a single, rough sound, but with a surprisingly light resonance. “Yeah, okay. No kidding.”

Yu doesn’t want to say it, but he does anyway. “I’ll let you get back to work.”

To his surprise, Adachi gives a low hum like he didn’t want him to say it, either. Still, he straightens up with a snap, pushing his hands in his pockets. “God, between you and her, all these criminals are gonna be running around rampant. It’s like you people think the police don’t even do anything.”

“You better catch them, then,” Yu says with a lilt, raising an eyebrow. He straightens out the bag on his wrist and the scarf around his neck, skin warm from the heat of the airlock. “Can’t let foolish citizens distract you, Tohru.”

Adachi says nothing at that, lips thin and curling in on each other like he’s biting them down, but he offers a short, lazy wave as Yu turns to go, a look of confusion and exasperation on his face that Yu wishes beyond all belief he could frame. Instead, he settles for the sneak peak he gets of him through the airlock windows back on the sidewalk outside, where he watches the detective reach for the pocket he placed his chocolate in and rub his thumb over the indent it leaves before letting it fall back across his arm.

Unlike Adachi, that ungrateful bastard, Nanako and Dojima are thrilled with the chocolate.

Dojima is marginally less thrilled to see him on the news pretending to work a job he does not have, but some things cannot be helped. At least Nanako appreciates his flair.

Come the rain on Tuesday, Yu has almost convinced himself he’s ready.

He knows this part, the introducing the metaverse part, the stick his hand in a TV and swear to his friends it’s the first time part, but that doesn’t stop the rest from boiling under his skin like a festering burn. Maybe it’s left-over from the searing eyes of his peers that have followed him around since the commercial, reigniting a reception of his new kid status that was much more prominent in all the loops prior, when he was less on the heels of Yosuke. His impromptu close-up, however, has more than done the trick, and even on the day after Valentine’s Day he still continues to receive the occasional chocolate on his desk, all tagged with the red Junes sales sticker.

There’s enough just from that to take to the police station by the end of the day, and he does so anonymously on his way home from a tentatively successful ramen date with Naoki. He winks at the receptionist before depositing a small bag of individually wrapped chocolates on her desk and slides out the door without a word, making the rest of his way back to the Dojima residence with a spring in his step. At least Adachi can’t complain he’s his only regift victim, this way.

He makes a long, complicated dinner with Nanako just to have something to do with his hands, keeping the TV on and low to her favorite game show. All the while, his phone buzzes on and off in his pocket with texts from Yosuke and Chie speculating on the nature of the rumor, and aside from one or two replies where his input seems necessary, he does his best to ignore that, too. Instead, he keeps his focus on Nanako’s little hands as she chops up carrots, tossing her a tiny chocolate for every vegetable she cuts correctly.

Even though she’s already a terminal night owl, Nanako is still a child, and Yu’s sense of responsibility won’t allow him to keep her up any later once she starts yawning around nine. He makes a cup of tea for himself, and then another, turning to the late-evening game shows he knows Adachi likes to let the droning background noise wash over him. For once, it’s easier than he thought it would be, and he finds himself immersed in some of the challenges. It’s one of those general knowledge trivia shows, and he tests himself along with it subconsciously. Adachi told him once, drunk, that he thinks they’d win if they ever went on together. Even if it was just part of his flattering front, Yu’s inclined to agree.

As midnight creeps closer, Yu takes his time brushing his teeth and settling for bed, ticking away the time of familiar motions to the sound of the rain. It’s an odd, circular moment, one that feels taken from a hundred other identical nights, but it’s comforting, somehow. It’s novel enough after some time away to be fresh. It’s not calm, really, but his hands are steady as they open up the blinds and text Yosuke that he’s standing at the ready just as the clock winds down to the hour.

The old tube TV stutters and groans to life, flashing white into static bars oscillating across the screen. Silently, Yu counts the seconds, one, two, and on three, they begin to coalesce into a narrow, strong silhouette, fuzzy around the edges and featureless but distinct, unmistakably distinct.

He doesn’t know what else to do but laugh, harsh and high in his throat. He’s not quite sure what the swirling in his gut means, but he feels a smile pressing into his cheek when he reaches for his phone not three more seconds after, punching in a well-memorized series of numbers.

“What do you see?” Yu asks before the other line can even breathe. It’s not like he doesn’t know the answer. Knowledge of the metaverse only enhances the image so far unless the subject is inside. Until then, all the public can see is vague static, worse than this.

“I don’t know,” Yosuke hedges, laughing in that way he does to relieve tension when he doesn’t find it funny at all. “This thing is old, it’s probably just broken. A blob or something?”

“Same here.” Yu parses through the tone of his words, and while the pitchy breathlessness of it makes him inclined to believe Yosuke sees a bit more than that, he can’t quite tell if there’s anything more distinct behind it. “Does it look like anyone, you think?”

“No,” Yosuke says after a beat of silence, and Yu hangs onto it tight until it echoes in the air and he’s sure there’s enough truth in it to let it settle between them. He feels the side of his lips twitch and lower, just a little, as something itches vaguely at the back of his neck. “Wait, do you see anything else?”

“No.” Yu wonders if he’s listening for the same hint of honesty on the other end of the line, but doesn’t bother waiting to wonder if he finds it. It’s enough of the truth for Yu’s standards. No matter how close he gets to the screen, all he can make out of himself—standing with the jutting silhouette of his preferred collar, long torso flowing into a thin waist, his hair cut out in geometric lines—is shadow. Whatever Yosuke sees, it can’t be more than this, and most likely isn’t close. “Just a static figure.”

“Lame,” Yosuke declares, and that, more than anything, rings clear and honest down to the core of how Yu knows him. Which, he would like to think, is at least worth something after all this time. Something clicks between them again, and even as Yu blinks at his own distorted reflection dancing in cascading signal waves, trying to make out an expression within the shadows, he feels the ground solid beneath his feet.

It’s like a play where he’s never quite sure how the others will deliver their lines, but in certain scenes, they at least seem to be the same ones.

“I can stick my hand in it,” Yu says, sliding ever so easily into a practiced, breathy speech. “I put my hand up to the screen, and it went right through.”

He’s done this part so many times it’s almost like a favorite audition monologue now, each uncertain lilt in his voice, stuttered word and strategic pause for breath planned out to the last detail. It’s a science, and when he slows down at all, he’s almost impressed by it.

“I think we both need to go to sleep, dude.” Yosuke yawns into it, as if to prove a point, or maybe mask the obvious way he thinks he’s lost his mind. It wouldn’t offend him, but it’s not worth saying.

Yu tests his fingers against the screen, and they pool around his touch, reverberating ripples of sound and noise as he sinks his hand into the blackness. The static electricity used to unnerve him, the way it cuts down against his bones, but now it’s just a familiar hum. “I’m serious. I’ll show you tomorrow.”

“It’s just a dream,” Yosuke sighs, but Yu just lets the crinkling static of the sound wash over him as he swirls his fingers through the watery surface of the screen, watching his figure dance and flicker around it in spirals as he contemplates the words on the tip of his tongue.

When he pulls his hand out, he watches his own pixels rearrange, and says, “I think it looks like me.”

He hears Yosuke swallow. “Tomorrow, then.”

The weirdest thing is just now normal it all is. Not familiar, but normal.

At first, it’s nothing but the same old simple color-by-numbers, a step-by-step list of points he crosses off to draw out one scene into the next. Step one, he takes Chie and Yosuke to Junes, and lets them laugh at him to their hearts’ content, as is custom. Step two, he sticks his hand into a TV and lets them panic to their hearts’ content in turn, amusing himself in the little differences between the colorful array of curse words they choose each time to express it. Step three, he makes sure to look like it’s unintentional when he trips them into the depths, and even remembers to scream along with them on the heady drop down through the void and into the fog, letting them complain around him without comment.

Step four, they wake up somewhere outside of Adachi’s apartment.

Except for they don’t.

Step four, they come to in a pile in the middle of the main stage, surrounded by the stacks of TVs and rig lights that always surround the portal’s usual destination, with Yosuke’s shoe in his face and Chie’s knee pressed sharp into his stomach. He’s sure they can both feel his heart race, and it’s not even an emotion he has to fake, either, that pale-faced, slack-jawed sense of awe and confusion that normally strains his acting range hardest, because his pulse is fluttering a hundred miles a minute and all he can see for miles is yellow fog billowing over the studio lights without a hint of red in sight.

The others pull to their feet, but Yu is slower to rise, clutching at his head and bracing himself up on his elbow as he tries to slow down his breathing and bite down the bubbling ecstasy in his chest.

Of course it’s not here yet. It’s February. Why would it be?

Step five, back to the script, feign ignorance. That he can always do. No, he has no idea where they are. No, he has no idea why this place exists or how they got here through a TV. Yes, there's a lot of fog. No, he can’t see shit, because he definitely doesn’t have glasses permanently tucked in his blazer pocket. Yes, he’s just as freaked out as they are. Definitely.

Step six, seven, and eight are the same, too, or at least a familiar variety of the sorts of things that tend to happen at this stage. What time Yu might dedicate to wondering just how this visit might play out without their usual jaunt into Adachi’s apartment is cut off sharply by a rounded figure emerging through the clouds, small arms swinging.

Yu’s always been on the fence about just how much of the loops Teddie registers. It’s more than the others, that much is clear, but he never quite remembers Yu the way Marie or Igor do. He still regards Yu as a complete stranger, but each and every time, their meeting is smoother and less contentious, and his presence gets less jarring for the others each loop. This time, nearly two-dozen goes in, they don’t greet each other like old friends by any means, but when he emerges from the fog, Yosuke and Chie almost seem to expect him, despite their exclamations of surprise.

Step six, introductions. They’re the first visitors this little bear has had in a long time, after all.

“The shadows have been getting restless lately,” Teddie moans, giving an exaggerated shiver. “It’s always so quiet down here, but they’re making it all loud now! And suddenly you show up!”

If there’s no trouble already created, then this world will find it, it seems. The only other option is that he’s been the trouble all along, and even then, both might be true.

But no, they’re just as confused as him, they swear, and Yosuke and Chie do a marvelous job of parading out their endless questions of shadows and TVs and who appears within them, just as Teddie excels in his trademark brand of wide-eyed sincerity. Mostly, he just sits back and watches, but there’s something else itching at his mind, this time around.

“Restless how?” Yu asks, innocent like the answer either way won’t mean anything to him.

“Just restless!” Teddie retorts, and it’s clear the time they’ll be able to spend grilling him before his frustration reaches its peak is waning down to its end. “They’re active all over the place, and there’s way too many! It’s going to be a nightmare when the fog clears.”

Yosuke swallows, and asks, “What happens when the fog clears?”

Step seven, they can’t be in here, what are they thinking? It’s dangerous.

Step eight, get up from the linoleum floor of the Junes electronics department, brush the dirt off, and reconvene.

“Are you sure it looked like you?” Chie asks over the hot chocolate they grabbed on the way over to their designated table, heater turned all the way down to compensate for the sweat still licking their skin. “Last night.”

“Yeah,” Yu replies, stirring the little marshmallow around the surface.

Chie nods, reaching in to grab her marshmallow with her bare fingers and pop it between her teeth. “I kinda think it did too.”

“Then we need to go back, right?” Yosuke asks, his face still flushed the hardest of all. It has been since they stepped into the TV, red blotched up his neck and high up onto his cheek bones. He sips his drink, tugging at his scarf. “Whatever is going on down there, clearly it has some connection to up here. If there’s even a chance Yu’s in danger, we can’t just do nothing.”

They decide quickly this is a fabulous and noble idea with no clear downsides, as they always do, but Yu doesn’t exactly envy their ignorance as much anymore with this. It’s better when someone is prepared, he’s found, and it doesn’t solve his own ignorance to what that danger may even be. At the very least, it’ll keep him alert when it starts to get too easy.

The picture keeps moving along, the colors building up one after the other. The next day is sunny and mild, and they make their way back to Junes again, Yu once again unable to talk Yosuke out of bringing a conspicuous blunt object along. Yu sends an apologetic glance to Chie before tying the flimsy rope around his waist and following Yosuke into the depths, floating feet first down while his companion collapses face-first into the studio floor.

For the first time in a long time, Yu genuinely wonders what will happen next.

The answer, as it so often has ended up being, is the same as it always is, but not quite.

“We wanna see these so-called shadows,” Yosuke asserts as he clambers to his feet, glaring daggers at Teddie’s approaching figure and leaning against his golfclub in what Yu is sure is an attempt to be authoritative that leaves a little to be desired. “Whichever one’s most restless, take us there.”

“That’s a bad idea,” Teddie sings, leaning forward on his feet with his hands behind his back like he’s giving a basic safety lecture to children. “How will you defend yourself?”

In response, Yosuke shrugs his shoulder in Yu’s direction, or more specifically, to his longtime preferred collapsable sword unfolded at his side. Teddie’s eyes flicker over the contrast between their weapons, slow and several times over, before giving his little arms a shrug. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Teddie and Yosuke’s bickering provides a background to the hum of Yu’s thoughts, filling in here or there with a quip or two only when needed. There’s voices in the distance—a young, nasally male voice and canned laughter somewhere over the fog—and all it takes is Yu gently pointing it out to Yosuke with a hand on his shoulder for him to demand Teddie take them. The signature of power Yu gives off has been too strong for loops upon loops now for their guide to even feign worry at Yosuke’s inability to defend himself, which saves Yu breath.

Yu hides the thrum of static in his fingertips by shoving them in his pockets, pulse uneven as he tries to make out anything familiar through the oppressive fog. It’s easy enough to mask as nerves or trepidation, filled with that same jittery unsurety, but when they approach the looming silhouette of Junes, Yu can’t help but feel like he’s been here before, even now.

There’s a large source of energy inside, Teddie explains, but Yu has the suspicion he already knows what it is. These are the motions, and they’re going through them. Same, same, but different.

You hate him, Yosuke’s shadow spits inside, surrounded by gaudy studio lights hanging high above the Junes rafters, aisles and rows of merchandise dripping a sickly red ooze under the eerie glow of Inaba at night through the windows. All he’s done since moving here is come in and steal the spotlight that was rightfully yours, and now you’re left playing second fiddle again.

“That’s not true,” Yosuke insists from down on one knee, clutching at his head and glancing helplessly at Yu from behind his arm. “It’s not.”

Yu barely registers it, looking straight ahead at the swirling black and yellow of the shadow’s eyes and its twisted lips full of words he’s always suspected carried some truth, but hit like knives to hear aloud as a wrenched-out confession of his soul, and he can’t make that choice for him even if he could tear himself away.

Oh well, the doppelgänger drawls, leaning up against one of the shelves and laughing soundlessly as half-melted cans topple to the blackened linoleum floor. At least you get to use him for a little fun in this good for nothing dump. Beats being bored.

The way Yosuke looks at him, like it’s Yu who needs to deny its words in order for this monster to believe they’re not the same, twists in his chest, but he’ll learn soon enough Yu can’t fight that battle for him. No one can.

He does, quite literally, fight this battle for him, but there’s no one else who can do what comes after, the part where Yosuke has to pull himself up off the floor and grit his teeth to look himself in the eye and acknowledge the truth in the reflection within. Once Jiraiya’s form disintegrates into Yosuke’s chest, he just stares at his own hands on the floor until Yu comes to pick him back up, and he shakes out his head, turning away from Yu’s gaze.

Teddie’s over the top shock and praise over a battle that amounted to nothing more than a flick of Yu’s wrist fills his ears, but he’s caught in the shame and apology dotting Yosuke’s frame as they walk back to the main studio, an uncomfortably tangible space between their bodies.

“Everyone has those thoughts,” Yu says after a long stretch of Yosuke looking away out into the fog, bumping his shoulder lightly with his own. What he really means is that Yu’s known he’s felt that way for a while, not just in this loop, but in a faint undercurrent coloring that lies between them since they’ve met, and even if he doesn’t have the words to say it, he knows it’s okay. Instead, he offers a quiet smile once he catches his eyes. “I don’t think any different of you.”

“Thanks,” Yosuke replies, faintly, but he says it more with the wide pull of his eyes before he looks back down at his own feet, hair falling in his face.

“You could keep doing this, you know,” Teddie cajoles as they’re gathering themselves up back at the entrance, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I don’t know why there’s all this commotion, but it’d sure be useful to have some help in figuring it out.”

“Yeah,” Yu says, so purely out of reflex he has to pivot to Yosuke and snap his jaw shut to make sure it isn’t out of turn. There’s an unspeakable relief in the resolve in his eyes, but it’s the strength in them that takes him off-guard, something burning in Yosuke’s face that all his panic over Saki Konishi never quite reflected the same. “I think we could.”

Whatever had passed between them is gone by the next day, the space too busy being alternatingly filled with Chie’s indignant fury over their prolonged journey without her and Teddie’s fervent navigation to yet another active area of the studio by the afternoon.

It’s another sharp rise of anticipation and dizzyingly slow comedown into that disorienting feeling of reality-adjacent. This world’s slightly warped vision of the school gym is completely unfamiliar to his eyes yet somehow, but his instincts have never failed him yet, and they carry him through the cascade of Chie’s distorted voice and minor shadows like he’s walking on air.

Chie’s shadow is still focused on Yukiko, because of course it is. Yu doesn’t even know why he’s surprised—even if everything else changes, he’s learning that some things remain universal constants that tie the fabric of this world together.

You only keep her around to feel better about yourself, Chie’s double mocks, hardly able to get its monologue out around the real counterpart’s spitting denial of its truths. It’s just too good to feel needed. She’s pathetic, and so are you.

Yosuke’s attempts to warn her are stymied by Yu’s hand on his wrist, and sometimes, Yu can’t help but wonder if they have the body memory of this somewhere stored, too. It still seems to hit Chie just as hard as the first time, though, and she goes down swinging in breathless rejection until Yu and Yosuke dissolve the shadow into the floor of the makeshift boxing ring in the gym center, formless shadow audience in the bleachers giving off an echoey mix of jeers and claps.

“That’s not all of me,” Chie finally manages, which is apparently a sufficient enough acknowledgment for Tomoe. Yosuke helps her to her feet when the dust is cleared despite her weak attempts at a glare for the trouble, and Yu holds out her jacket from off the floor where it had fallen, Teddie fluttering in unfounded worry around them.

She catches his glance and swallows, something approaching vulnerability written across her features. In response, he opens up his expression in understanding, soft but not too bold that she’ll shy away from it. It seems to work, her lips quirking slightly before falling back down into exhaustion.

In the end, she’s more upset that she didn’t get to fight in the ring herself, which Yu finds to be indicative that she will, as always, manage to recover from this. From her continued impassioned arguing with Yosuke over who finished the shadow off, for all else that’s changed in these days, he has a feeling they both will.

Before they crawl out the stack of TVs that lead back to the cold tile of Junes, Yu turns to Teddie and asks under his breath, “Are you picking up on any other energy around here?”

Teddie gives the air a good sniff, scratching at the lining of his costume zipper. He scans the air for several solid seconds, Yu’s leg tingling from holding it half inside the exit screen.

“Not really,” he eventually seems to decide, drawing out the words. “Maybe something in the distance, but it all gets kinda mixed up at that point. Why?”

“Just curious.” He doesn’t bother to qualify it with anything more specific, and just shrugs and ducks the rest of the way into the TV before he’s falling into the void again.

The next week brings sunshine and tentative exploration into the TV, but with no designated dungeon to go into, his friends find themselves much more concerned with the mystery of why Yu’s appeared on it than wandering around in aimless fog. He knows why, of course he does, but there’s no reason to rush them along into conclusions just yet. It’s always been like this—it’s easier to sit back and wait than reveal too much and open himself to a whole host of questions he has no ability to answer. So he lets the days pass with his head half-twisted over his shoulder, eyes and ears open for the sound of constant rain.

When it comes in the last waning days of the month, it brings with it a torrential downpour that washes away what remains of the snow, and a certain detective Tohru Adachi to his dinner table.

He’s been marking off the days in his calendar with little weather clouds underneath, and there’s scant few days left of the flood before the fog rolls back in. On the midnight channel, his face is clearer, but without his body trapped in the TV, he remains little more than a formless outline, taunting him from beyond the static in snippets and bursts of his grey eyes.

As for Adachi, he is already there when he comes home from his daycare job mid-evening on the last day before the fog. Take-out containers of ramen and several cans of beer litter the table next to Dojima like he’d been there a while even, Nanako politely eating her noodles from the couch.

“Welcome home,” Dojima calls with a hand in the air, and if it weren’t for his flushed cheeks and loose tie, the exuberance in his voice alone would give his lack of sobriety away immediately. Adachi’s head whips up to look at Dojima, and then in the direction he’s pointing, each motion sharp and a little awkward until his eyes rest on Yu, narrowing once before blinking wide.

“Look who decided to show,” Adachi raises his beer lazily, his own pale skin patched up with faint blotches of red. The slur of his words is too pronounced to match the two or three cans scattered around him, and Yu feels his lips twitch into a frown for a split second before he manages to smooth it over. As if to mock him, when he speaks again, it’s even thicker. “Mr. Local Commercial Star.”

“He doesn’t even work there,” Dojima huffs, slurping a handful of noodles noisily over the sound of the evening news and Nanako’s impassioned protests that he does, actually. Adachi just laughs through the chaos of it, high-pitched and rolling like all of his best fake ones are, twirling his chopsticks before one flips over his finger and falls to the table. “Have a seat. There’s enough for you, too.”

Yu sincerely doubts it’s his imagination burning holes in the small of his back as he stashes away his jacket and shoes, sliding his bag by the door, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. By the time he’s turned back around, Adachi’s looking over at Nanako, pointing with the remaining chopstick in his hand and telling her to make Yu bring her home a Junes apron of her own next time, which is such a criminally good idea Yu’s a little offended he didn’t think about it first.

Not for the first time, he wishes he could break into the beer stash himself; he feels like it’d be the perfect salve now as he slides in at Adachi’s open side at the table, searching the remains of the takeout bag and pulling out a pair of wooden chopsticks and a half-full container of ramen. Instead, he watches the curve of Adachi’s throat as he finishes the one in his hand, empty can lining up next to the rest.

It’s so put-upon, the way he’s swaying in his seat like a branch in the wind, big and garish, that Yu feels insane being the only one who can ever seem to see it. He doesn’t know what part of that shows on his face, but it must be something—days in the metaverse after the longest break he’s ever had from it burning too much exhaustion in his bones to properly fight off the narrowing of his eyes as he starts on his dinner—because Adachi blinks lucid at him before his eyes cross and he turns back away to Dojima.

His arrival seems to have interrupted a conversation between them, and once Yu is settled, they return to it, low in that adult voice they use around Nanako that isn’t near as quiet as they think. Adachi seems to know it, too, or at least is seeming to find some sort of perverse pleasure in toying with the line, his voice sliding up and high on the end of sentences, and hushed exclamations of forced awe more stage-whispers than anything. It’s nothing interesting, just some case they’re working at the hospital, but either way, Yu is infinitely more interested in the whites of Adachi’s knuckles when they ever so subtly clench tighter and tighter onto the new can in his hands over time, interrupted only when he has to exchange it for another from the center when it empties, quicker than Yu expects. And another after that.

“You’re a teenager,” Adachi says after a while, turning on Yu with a sharp pivot to snap him out of his aimless thoughts and back into the reality of the living room, Adachi’s eyebrows comically furrowed as he waves a finger in the direction of his face, elbow slumped on the table. “Have you heard about the Midnight Channel?”

Adachi’s eyes are sharp, unable to hide the hint of continued lucidity, but his gaze is too unfocused to read, Yu feeling the confines of his chest pull sharp on his ribcage as Adachi traces everywhere else across his body but up. No matter how hard Yu tries to pin him down, he’s lost, trapped with his hands on his chopsticks and no context clues.

“No,” he lies into another bite of ramen, hoping the motion masks his initial hesitation. “What, is that some urban legend or something?”

“Apparently,” Adachi shrugs, tossing back another drink, the angle so that Yu has no idea how much truly goes down. “They say you’ll see your soulmate on TV on a rainy night. I heard some high schoolers talking about it. Figured you might be in the know.”

Yu can feel his eyes, across his shoulders, down his arms, over his waist, but he still can’t meet them. Granted, for the moment, he’s stopped trying, his focus on the narrow curve of Adachi’s fingers. “I don’t really get around like that.”

Adachi hums, low and melodic. By the way his fingers start tapping against the table as he appraises Yu’s form, he’s almost certain he can’t bring himself to believe that.

It doesn’t feel like much time passes, but it must be hours by the time Nanako and Dojima yawn almost in tandem, one after the other, pulling Dojima out of his rambling conversation with Adachi to look at the time. He’s not the drunkest Yu’s ever seen him doing something like this, not by a long shot, but he’s more affected than Adachi by a good margin, swaying a bit as he pulls to his feet and beckons a bleary-eyed Nanako over.

“Bedtime already?” Adachi drawls, swaying so deep he almost crashes into Yu’s shoulder. “But it’s so early.”

Yu quickly glances at the clock; it’s only nine. He’s inclined to agree.

“You can stay,” Dojima dismisses, waving his hand aimlessly in the air as Nanako tugs gently on his wrist in the direction of the bed. Something twists in his chest like it always does at the sight of her playing parent, but the part of him that wants to get up and assist is pinned down by the dangerously close warmth of Adachi’s shoulder, radiating energy off his skin. “But we’re going to bed. Yu can lock up, he knows how.”

Easy as that, something it had sometimes taken Yu months and months to do in times prior—Adachi alone, in his living room—falls right into his lap with a flick of the kitchen lights, plunging them into the sole light of the den. There’s a line of moisture halfway up the can in Adachi’s hand, and this time, when it rises to his lips, Yu watches his throat move and constrict to toss it back in one go, only coming up for air when he can discard it blind next to the pile of the rest, wiping his at his mouth with his button-down sleeve.

“Why are you still up?” Adachi asks, leaning on his elbow with an accusatory finger point in Yu’s direction. “Kids should rest for school.”

“I’ll be fine,” Yu replies, mild. He curls his hands around his glass of water, pressing his fingers into the cool droplets of condensation.

“Because it’s easy for you,” Adachi infers, and the slur remains prominent, each word flowing into the rest, but it’s less exaggerated, his voice too close to a murmur compared to the boisterous play he’d been performing. It’s still as thick as the fog. “Right? All of it is.”

“What do you mean?” Yu hedges, even though he feels like he knows.

“School,” Adachi shrugs into the knuckles propping up his jaw, pulling the skin taut across his sharp cheekbones. “Everything. Life.”

Yu sets his chopsticks down—he’s done with dinner anyway—and turns to him, angling his knees closer as inhales and exhales long, just once. “School is just a lot of memorization.”

Adachi rolls his eyes, and his head bobs unsteadily along with it. “Sure, sure.”

It’s something he feels like he’s always known the answer to, but it must have been ages since he’s asked it out loud, if ever. “You were good at school, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Adachi snaps. His fingers dig subtle indents in the empty aluminum can still clutched in his hand, and he looks off somewhere to the side as he continues, defiant and uninhibited. “It doesn’t matter though, you’ll find that out soon enough. Or maybe you won’t, since you have everything that does matter, too. Lucky you.”

Now that it’s gone, Yu misses the intensity of his eyes, even as his chest expands to breathe full for the first time in a while. “I still don’t know what you mean.”

His focus returns to him, and Yu should really be more careful what he wishes for, these days, because they’re wholly unreadable aside from something watery swirling just underneath the surface, stormy and deepened behind furrowed brows. Yu doesn’t dare look away, no matter how hard his instincts beg.

“What I said,” Adachi drawls, like Yu’s stupid. Like they both are, maybe, sarcastic in the undertones. “Come on, kid, don’t play dumb. Dojima talks about you at the station, you know. You’re in all these clubs, have all these little service jobs, always surrounded by friends, everyone loves you. Guess it must be pretty easy to be confident when you have it made.”

The denial that it’s not true is already on his lips, but he lets them fall closed, rubbing his thumb on the inside of his wrist just once to try and find his footing in his moment, the heat of Adachi’s expectant gaze pooling something dark inside his gut. There’s something raw about it, much more so than his freely-given disdain, and Yu doesn’t know what to do with any part of it.

“It’s not like that,” Yu says, because he can’t explain what he really means: that it’s exhausting to keep up, that he constantly feels like he’s running against a clock just two seconds behind, like he hasn’t really slept in years. He can’t imagine Adachi would ever feel sorry for him. “It’s not easy. Staying up late isn’t confidence, trust me.”

Adachi huffs, then lets out a short groan and buries his head in his hand, squeezing his eyes shut for a long inhale before they open to stare down at the floor. “I think,” Adachi swallows, and Yu can’t stop looking at how narrow and pale and soft his neck looks beneath his collar, can’t stop imagining how it would feel to have his hands on it, or maybe the edges of his teeth. Can’t stop imagining what it would feel like to drape his hand across his shoulders now and watch some of the laced-up tension drain from them. He can’t stop imagining it, even when Adachi inhales and finally says, “I think I hate you.”

In the air, his voice quivers just a tad with unidentified emotion, and as Yu scans him, he can see that same tremor in his hands, digging into his scalp, and he’s looking up past his fingers at him now, eyes wide like an animal caught out from the bushes, terrified and frozen.

Still, Yu says, “That’s fine.”

Adachi scoffs at that, but before he can say anything else, Yu says, lower, “But I don’t hate you.”

The sound Adachi lets out is too quick and hurried to be anything he could name, but it pushes him away from the table just an inch, leaving one of his hands curled around the wood. Yu can all but see his heart beating through his chest, ribcage rising and flaring with his breath through the thin white fabric. He looks an animal still, like he’s the prey and Yu’s two seconds from gunning him down, but Yu wills himself to remain steady.

“Of course not.” It’s less of a laugh and more like intentional nails on a chalkboard, high and mean. Adachi takes a hand back through his hair, finally breaking contact to stare at the ground, disgusted, like it’s offended him. “You don’t hate anyone. You’ll even take pity on me.”

“It’s not pity,” Yu insists, because he needs to know that. He deserves to know that. He has no way of knowing if it will ever get through his head, but if he doesn’t try now to leave it underlined in permanent ink, he may never get the chance back. “And I don’t just like everyone by default. People have to earn that.”

“And I have?” Adachi rolls his eyes again, but somehow, it sounds almost like a genuine question rather than a flatlined statement. “What an honor. The Prince of Inaba doesn't hate me.”

Adachi meets his eyes again dead-on, but there’s an edge there that makes something drop hot in Yu’s stomach—angry but hungry, disdainful but needy, and it’s so, so close to an Adachi he knew so long ago that it steals his breath away. Seconds upon seconds pass between them as they turn each other over in their minds, and when Yu licks his lips to speak, he feels like he’s on the edge of something, and he’s not sure if either of them are ready for the other side.

“I think I should sleep,” Yu finally says, and with a snap, the energy between them breaks like a twig, and they’re left once again in the Dojima’s living room, empty beers and takeout boxes on the table. Reality. It’s still late February. Still cold. “Can you make it home okay?”

Yu can’t tell if he’s wholly relieved for the out or not, but there’s certainly some of it there in the haste with which he backs away from the table, shaking out his head. “Yeah, I can walk.”

He almost wants to offer to walk him home, but for once, he’s not sure if pressing is the right idea this time. “Okay, be safe.”

Just as Adachi’s shrugging on his suit jacket, one awkward arm after the other, he pauses, turns to Yu holding out his coat and asks, “You sure you haven’t heard of the Midnight Channel?”

Yu blinks his eyes closed, slow, and tries to think about anything other than why he would be asking. Anything at all. “I’m sure.”

It’s not for the first time, but the second it happens, he knows he’ll remember this one forever. Even if, by some miracle, he ever manages to get what he wants, he’ll always have this seared into his brain. Even as it happens, each frame slips into the other like a flipbook, slow and otherworldly as Adachi takes the coat in Yu’s hands and turns to him.

The light from the living room reflects off the whites in his eyes, but the rest of it gets swallowed up in the irises, lightless grey slates that beam down solid and monochromatic, lifeless and as dark as the sea.

The eyes underneath.

Beneath Yu’s feet, the floor falls away from him, crumbling bit by bit into a cloudy abyss.

When he blinks again, they’re gone, and it’s Adachi’s own eyes again, but now that he’s seen the shade lurking within, they don’t look the same. They don’t.

His ribcage feels like it might burst, and he barely hears Adachi over the sound of his own blood, his own thoughts swirling in an open panic towards the drain.

“See ya around, kid,” he tosses over his shoulder, and the ghost of every step he takes lingers in the hall even after the door shuts behind him, dancing in the darkness.

Yu barely makes it upstairs in time to empty the bile from his throat.

Same, same, but different. Different, different, but the same.

Chapter Text

When the first strokes of spring start to bleed in as the calendar rolls into March, it does so by degrees: slick rain on the sidewalks that washes away the last dirty dredges of snow, fledgling blossoms on threadbare branches, and the seeping crawl of long afternoon sunsets, until the canvas of Inaba is streaked with its color, and Yu feels the pull of its newness in turn.

The landscape is starting to look more like he remembers his beginnings being, all white flower buds and dew-soaked green grass, but he’s never felt further from its promises of equilibrium. Even the disquiet of the fog brings nothing new, no matter how closely Yu looks over his shoulder into the depths of it. No one comes for him, not in the quiet of the afternoon nor while he sleeps at night, and when the sun peeks out in trepidation from behind its thick curtain, he’s still left with the leering sense of anticipation no amount of blue skies seem to shake. But that isn’t unusual, anymore.

Early into the month, right as the fog begins to dissipate, Dojima catches Yu in the living room on the way to bed, with Yu’s hand curled on the fridge and Dojima at the counter, paper sprawled out in front of him.

“I have the third off,” Dojima explains around the rim of his third cup of coffee since arriving home that night. He always switches to decaf after the second, but there’s still the subtle thrum of energy radiating off him from across the kitchen. Yu slows en-route to some leftover cabbage salad for his lunch tomorrow, letting the fridge door swing closed. “I was thinking of taking Nanako to the shrine for Girl’s Day, maybe have a nice dinner here.”

The subject in question retired to bed about an hour earlier, but Yu doesn’t have many qualms answering for her in saying, “I’m sure she’d love that.”

Dojima gives a thoughtful hum, turning the page. “I was thinking of inviting Adachi over for dinner too, since we both have it off. If that’s alright with you.”

Yu pauses, blinking in his words for several seconds before he remembers to speak. He hides his face behind the fridge door again as he does so, letting the cool air sweep up the uncomfortable heat that swells through him.

“That’s great,” Yu says after only a slight beat too long, fishing around the contents of the fridge. He finds some tofu left over from a few days ago. “Nanako will be thrilled.”

“I figured that’d be fine,” Dojima muses, taking another sip as Yu pulls out ingredients for a simple tofu salad. It will be nice to share with Yukiko. “You two seem to really be hitting it off.”

Yu’s hand stills on top of the tupperware container, glancing over his shoulder furtively to find Dojima peering up at him over top of the paper, a look in his eye that makes Yu feel distinctly like one of his interrogation subjects. Still, it’s softened at the edges, almost like Dojima’s aware of the effects of his own expression and trying to pull it down, but it only cuts so far into his natural aura. Yu commends the effort, but he knows better than to think that’ll get him off the hook.

“We have a lot in common.” Yu tries not to think about the look in Adachi’s eyes from the last time he left, or how it hasn’t even been a week but he’s counted the days they haven’t spoken since. It’s not a very successful venture. “Believe it or not.”

Something about that seems to strike Dojima, and he lets out a laugh as he flips another page, but the tension in Yu’s shoulders remains. “No, I believe it.” Dojima offers his trademark pinched smile, shaking his head. “I just think it’s funny, is all.”

“It is,” Yu agrees seamlessly, always glad to stake out the middle ground between the two of them. Slowly, he returns to his task, combining tofu and lettuce with only a slight tremor in his chopsticks, imperceptible.

Yu should know by now to never underestimate the combined strength of his eye and his intuition. Still, he’s in a better mood than Yu’s seen in a while and seems to be riding it far longer into the evening than he’s come to expect. “Don’t worry,” Dojima dismisses, blithe. “I think it’s a good thing for both of you. So long as you have friends your own age.”

Something flips in the pit of his gut, clumsy and falling hard, but he swallows it down, breaking up the tofu with his chopsticks. “I have those.”

Dojima shrugs and folds up the paper with a crinkling groan, pressing it flat to the table to read the backside. He looks up at Yu one last time over his mug—Yu can feel their eyes meet out of the corners of his own—but whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, with not a hint of the harder detective he knows well hiding in Dojima’s expression. “Then there’s no issue, is there?”

Yu frequently envies ignorance.

On the day of the third, Yu doesn’t know why he bothers with being surprised that even in this timeline, Dojima remains Dojima.

“I’ll be off by sundown,” his uncle swears breathlessly from the other end of Yu’s phone, his voice cut in with the hectic background sounds of the station and flipping papers. Yu’s paused on the side of the floodplain to hear, but even with only minimal traffic and the occasional cry of birds, it’s difficult to hear through. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Yu says, flatter than he means. It’s hard to watch his tone, after all this time.

“I sent Adachi to pick up Nanako,” Dojima explains, and that at least gets Yu’s attention, raising his hand up to his ear to further block out extraneous noise. “I think there's some vendors out by the shrine. You two can spend time with her there, and I’ll be home by dinner time.”

“I can make it,” Yu says, kicking at a stray rock that found its way to the concrete. If they make the mistake of waiting on Dojima to bring something home, there’s a solid chance they’ll be waiting all night.

He can hear his uncle’s relief in the form of a crackling exhale, so close to the receiver it pitches static right into Yu’s ear. “Perfect,” Dojima sighs, loud enough to be heard from the distance Yu’s put between the phone and himself. “Thanks, kid.”

It’s not the first time he’s called him that, but the diminutive sounds weird on his lips now, wrong, and Yu’s grateful that the physical distance masks his reaction. “No problem.”

The call ends before Yu can even think to hit the button on his own phone. With the click, Yu sends his eyes up to the sky, blinks at the sparse clouds, and sets into motion alongside the grass.

Without a concrete timeframe, he lets his legs carry him mindlessly in the direction of the shrine. Even in the early afternoon hours, there are young girls with their parents already gathering near the floodplain, their little hands held in between their mothers and fathers as brothers circle around them impatient, all out to admire the peeking buds on the trees set to blossom in brilliant whites and pinks as the rainy season takes hold. Yu keeps his eyes ahead on the concrete, solitude too apparent in the modest crowd for his liking.

He’s not quite sure what else he expected, but he’s still mildly surprised to round the corner down the shopping district to see Adachi and Nanako standing by the vending machine next to Konishi Liquors. Their backs are to him, Adachi slouched down closer to Nanako’s height and hands shoved deep in his pockets as she traces her finger over the options beneath the glass. There are enough stray shoppers and ambient noise that the two don’t even flinch at another pair of footsteps, so Yu hangs back a moment on the corner and watches as they talk. He’s too far away to make out the words, but he can see Nanako’s excitement shining like a lighthouse, Adachi nodding along and pulling out a small handful of coins from his pocket.

As he turns to give it to her, Adachi catches Yu out of the corner of his eye and rises to his full height, expression blank and unreadable as he deposits the yen into her hand. Nanako cocks her head to the side at his shift in focus until she follows his eyes and jumps to attention, handing the coin right back so she can cross the distance between them, her smile tugging at her cheeks.

“Big Bro!” she greets, bounding up to him with a little wave, face flushed deep with color despite the relatively mild air. Unable to help himself, Yu reaches down and ruffles her hair, fixing the fall of her bangs with an expert slide of his fingers as she grins up at him, a little shy. He smiles down in turn, gentle, and it seems to ease her even more, small hand reaching over to tug at his wrist gently. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure,” he replies. Only then does Yu look over her head to find Adachi again, still standing by the machine and tossing the yen in his hand, something strange and shadowed settling across his face as he watches. Yu meets his eyes, suddenly aware of how tightly Nanako has attached herself to his side in contrast to the distance Adachi’s kept down the hill, and how he wishes he could soften the edges of whatever’s falling across him now. Even in holding his gaze, the man’s expression doesn’t change. “I’ll have whatever you’re having,” he tells Nanako.

At that, Adachi stirs, settling the yen back in his palm and inserting them into the machine one after the other in quick succession. Taking advantage of the break in tension, however light, Yu leads them back over to the machine where two Dr. Salts and a Second Maid pop out, Adachi taking the lemonade and placing the sodas in Yu and Nanako’s waiting hands. Dojima doesn’t normally let her have caffeine on school nights, and Yu is almost certain Nanako told Adachi this, judging by how he winks and gently nudges the can with his own as she pulls the tab open.

“Don’t tell boss,” Adachi says just to confirm it, this time more to Yu than Nanako, glancing at him low over raised eyebrows. Yu mimes zipping his lips, and tries not to think about how it’s the first words they’ve spoken in days. Whatever rests between them at any point in time, Nanako is a child, and hell or high water, Yu has always made it a priority to keep her out of their bullshit. It’s an unspoken pact Adachi has held up from his own end, too, even in his worst loops.

There’s a breath of silence where all three take a sip of their drinks, but Yu isn’t surprised to find Adachi’s the most eager to break it first, running the back of his hand sloppily over his lips.

“Well, Nanako,” he begins, grinning that big, lopsided performance smile, utterly familiar yet unnatural on his lips. It’s strange, really, in a way that twists his insides a little—Yu never saw him without it before this loop, but here, he’s watched it phase and fade into the final form, and it’s uncanny to witness. Now that he knows his face without it, it’s clownish, distorted. “Since we’re already being bad, might as well follow it up with candy from the shrine, yeah?”

Nanako giggles, still small and half-hidden around the can of soda, but she inclines it towards him with a secretive little glance, darting her eyes up and down the street before settling on Yu. “Can we?”

“It’s a day all about you,” Yu replies over the sound of Adachi’s high, breathy laughter as he winks down at her again, catching her eyes away from Yu just long enough for her to return it. They can’t have been alone that long, but it’s a quick turnaround for him to rub off on her this much. Yu can’t help but soak in some of their conspiratorial energy. “So we can do whatever you want.”

Nanako hums, tapping her finger against her chin in thought as she furrows her brow just a hair, looking between them like she still can’t believe the level of seven-year-old freedom being afforded to her. “I want to eat chichi dango before dinner.”

“Okay,” Yu smiles, because he was going to let her do that anyway.

“Your wish is our command,” Adachi drawls, splaying his arm out and feigning a bow before placing that hand lightly on her shoulder, drawing her in the direction of the shrine and dropping it when her gait naturally bounds just out of his casual reach. Here, too, families are gathering by the entrance, young girls and their mothers walking the sidewalks towards the arch. Yu falls in line, the fizzy carbonation settling odd in his chest, but it’s hard for the feeling to linger with Nanako’s energy between them, a hummed tune on her lips and the caffeine already starting to take effect by the spring in her step.

At the gates of the shrine, the air is filled with the overwhelming scent of candied peach and early spring, steam and laughter rising up out from the various booths that line the path. Every festival is like this, Yu has learned from living in Inaba. For each holiday, local businesses take advantage of the occasion to sell their seasonally relevant specialties and engage with the community, a tradition as embedded as the Hina dolls on the shrine steps for this stalwartly traditional town.

Sure enough, there are marinating tofu samples from Marukyu to his left and grilled-up steak skewers to his right, Kanji’s mother surrounded by a stand of colorful cloth up ahead across from Naoki and a selection of rice wine. It’s little surprise, though, that Nanako makes a beeline to the shade of the trees where the woman from Shiroku is selling dango and peach candies, dancing through the crowds of people faster than Yu’s grown body can hope to follow.

Adachi makes no attempt to move faster than him, and Yu doesn’t know why he’s distantly surprised by it, but he is. The feel of his breath in his ear takes him even more off-guard, and Yu jumps a little beneath his skin at the sound of his voice.

“Big Bro, huh?” Adachi asks from somewhere within his shadow, just a pace behind him and close enough to feel the movement of his jacket in the light breeze as he leans in. It’s clandestine, like he doesn’t want to be heard, but Nanako’s halfway across the grass, now, bouncing on her toes in the line. “Already.”

“Yeah,” Yu replies, sliding in between a pair of families loitering by the tofu stand. Adachi follows him into the next step like he really is his shadow, passing through the crowds in the pattern he leads like they’re tied together, but no matter how long Yu studies them as they move, Adachi’s eyes are always somewhere else, out over the crowd. “Already.”

Adachi hums but says nothing. When they break through past the other side of the first row of booths to stand back next to Nanako, Adachi glances up at the prices on the signs and hands her a sum of yen at least three times that much. It’s out of his jacket pocket again, which Yu finds a bit odd—he keeps his billfold in the back of his pants. Still, it tugs something fond at his lips.

“Get whatever you want,” Adachi tells her wide-eyed stare, shrugging and bringing a hand to scratch at the back of his head like he’s masking a yawn, but his chest doesn’t rise nearly enough. “My treat.”

“Thanks!” Nanako beams, and just like that, it’s her turn to go bounding up to the stand, so much bolder than her age as she politely addresses the old woman behind the counter for her order: a dango ball and two peach candies.

Yu leads Adachi out of the line as the woman arranges her bag, stepping just far enough off to the side to not obstruct the flow of traffic. Again, Yu expects nothing but silence, careful not even to look his way, but when Nanako peels off from the stand and bounds across the grass after catching the eye of a friend from school, neither of them makes an attempt to follow. She’s close enough in their eyesight that neither of them even flinch from their station under the tree, damp air filling the space between them.

“I never did anything like this as a kid.” Adachi’s words surprise him a little less this time, but he still isn’t fully prepared, and he has to listen to the echo in his mind rather than the words as they’re spoken. “I don’t have siblings or anything.”

“Me neither,” Yu says, on reflex and out of haste to agree more than anything, especially with Nanako still in his field of vision. “Well, not biologically.”

“How cute.” It’s pitched like it’s meant to be quaint, but Yu can’t miss the tightness in the back of Adachi’s throat. Across the field, Nanako parts from her friend and turns back towards them, beckoning the two closer to the shrine with a wave.

Adachi doesn’t follow him until Yu turns back a few paces in, drawing his focus back down somewhere up over the trees with a cough. Adachi scratches at the back of his head again, and sometimes Yu wonders if his nervous tics are really always so performative.

“I think your Dad wants to come back with you later,” Adachi says once they’re in earshot of Nanako, who simply blinks between him and the doll display on the steps of the shrine before drawing into Yu’s side. It’s a gift, it always is, these little tokens of trust.

“But I’m here with you two now,” she offers in reply, all simplistic truth and innocence. “So we should pray together.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adachi stirs, and Yu tenses with the expectation he’ll say something wrong, like the truth. He doesn’t believe in that sort of thing—they’ve stayed up late a time or two talking in circles about the faithlessness they share—but he doesn’t. Instead, it’s to subtly bring his hands together down in front of his chest in a mirror of how Nanako has positioned herself, a thoughtful line across her face and eyes fluttering closed.

Yu joins them, taking in the glass eyes of the shrine dolls, and although he shares Adachi’s disbelief in any sort of benevolent higher powers, it’s Nanako that always seems to light up the urge for prayer in him most. He wonders if Adachi is thinking the same thing, now, sending up a small plea for the health of the young girl in front of them, but even stolen glances aren’t enough to tell.

It’s only a brief minute of silence before Nanako breaks it. With the moment gone, she spins on her heel and deposits the two peach candies she’d bought in each of their hands before putting the handsomely sized dango ball between her lips, glancing to either side before she does as if Dojima will round the corner and catch her in the act at any moment.

“Well, thanks,” Adachi grins down at her, unwrapping the candy and tossing it back behind his teeth. It’s cloyingly sweet when Yu does the same with his own, but he’s sure Adachi must love it. It’s just his taste. “Boss said you were making dinner.”

“Big Bro is,” Nanako clarifies, missing how Adachi’s eyes flickered to Yu’s in between sentences even though it took Yu’s full attention. It would help if he’d use his name, but that seems to be beyond him, and ‘kid’ must strike him as too glib for polite company. “What are you gonna do?”

“Inari,” Yu decides, scanning his eyes over the booths behind him once again. “I think I can get everything I need here.”

It’s simple to make, really, something he’s done a hundred times before it feels like, but Nanako lights up at it anew, and Adachi doesn’t immediately curl his nose, so he’ll count it as a victory. That it’s traditional for the day is just a pleasant bonus that saves him a trip to Junes—Marukyu is already selling fried tofu packets and dashi broth, and Adachi’s presence allows him to buy a nice bottle of rice wine from the Konishis’ stand, and rice itself is easy to procure. He gets it last, from the Shiroku stand again, and the woman gives him a wink he doesn’t want to quantify as he leaves.

All the while, Adachi follows him tight to his form still as Nanako flutters around like a fairy in between them, anecdotes from the playground on her lips egged on by Adachi’s playful lines of questioning. It’s not anything Yu hasn’t seen before, Adachi’s always been a special sort of kind with her, but the space between his eyebrows when he looks at her—smooth, arched, gentle—and the crease that falls over darkened irises whenever they fall on Yu has never been more stark. He can’t help but wonder if even Nanako feels it, the wire of tension that runs above her head between their adult bodies, but even if she does, she doesn’t show it, as happy to be at their sides as she’s ever been.

Outside the gates of the shrine, she holds out her hands without a word, and Yu knows what it means immediately. He switches his bag of ingredients to his left hand and takes hold of her outstretched palm with his right, but Adachi just stares at them, hands in his pockets, even when Nanako juts her free hand out further into the air for emphasis.

“Well, come on,” Yu jerks his shoulder in her direction, looking at Adachi with raised eyebrows. He stirs, a little pale as his focus darts between them, but it only takes a blink from Nanako back at him for him to finally lay down the sword on whatever internal battle he’s waging and reach for her hand, wiping it discreetly on the slide of his slacks before he does. Yu can’t help the smile that tugs at his own lips, nor how it refuses to fall even when Adachi doesn’t return it. It’s hidden behind the shadows of waning afternoon sun, anyway.

That’s how they walk all the way down the shopping district and into the residential area, Nanako swinging their hands in a wide arc between them and skipping every other step. Adachi won’t meet his eyes anymore, but Yu doesn’t expect him to like this. There are patches of red blotting up his skin underneath his collar, a telltale tendon of tension scaling down his neck from where his jaw clenches. But whatever song Nanako is humming as she leads them confidently in the direction of home, Adachi must know it too, because he’s intoning along quietly under his breath, and Nanako beams when she notices, swinging their arms wider in the air. That’s better than his attention on him, right now. Better than he dared hope for when he came out today.

By the time they arrive at home, Yu’s arm is tingling from the constant movement, the crease of his opposite elbow a little tender from where he’d rested the shopping bag. She doesn’t drop their hands until they’re fully in the door, and to their collective surprise, Dojima is already inside and sitting on the couch. From his haphazard half-undone tie and a slight flush on his cheeks, he must have just beaten them back. He rises to his feet at their entrance, fixing his tie, and his smile is only a little haggard in the face of Nanako’s beaming brightness as she runs to greet him. A smile of his own falls across his lips as he takes in the three of them, Yu places his bag on the counter and Adachi hovers somewhere at his side.

Nanako’s buzzing a mile a minute, still clearly riding caffeine enough that Yu anticipates he and Adachi will be hearing about it later, but over the sound of her voice, all Yu can focus on is the way Adachi isn’t looking at any of them now, dragging his nails through the lines in their wooden kitchen counter and looking out towards the window. They’re so close—close enough that Yu could gently elbow his side to draw him back to reality, but he doesn’t dare. Instead, he takes in the sight of Nanako’s joy, unbridled and innocent, and lets it wash over him.

“Big Bro and Adachi took me to the shrine,” she explains, and Adachi does meet his eyes when Yu turns to see his reaction, but it must have been accidental given the way he reels his chest back a touch. “But you and I should go to the river!”

“Of course,” Dojima laughs, ruffling her hair even as she frowns and fixes it back into place. He slides his hand down to her shoulder, looking up at the two of them with what must be a dozen unspoken questions on his lips. Even as his mouth parts, he shakes his head and lets it fall shut again, a beat passing before he says, “You two should make dinner in the meantime. It’ll be midnight if we work on her schedule.”

“Sure,” Yu nods, ignoring the way Adachi freezes at his side. “I’m sure we can time it about right.”

There’s a silence that falls over the room, and Yu doesn’t even really register what it’s for until Adachi clears his throat, forces a smile, and says, “Works for me, boss.”

Seemingly satisfied, Dojima leads Nanako over to grab their shoes and jackets for the evening weather, Nanako still hurriedly telling him the details of the afternoon—their willingness to give her sugar thankfully omitted, even though it remains obvious. Yu, for his part, says nothing, rifling through the bag as Nanako offers one last wave over her shoulder before she and her father are out the door, the sound of the lock clicking definitively behind them.

Without their boisterous presence, the house feels quiet, immediately so. Not even the low drone of the TV from the other room cuts into the density of it. Adachi is still motionless at his side, and Yu’s movement towards the fridge doesn’t break it either, but he can feel something like focus twinge at the back of his neck as he opens it.

“Do you want something to drink?” Yu offers, palming a beer and holding it up over the door.

“No,” Adachi says, pointed and hurried like he can’t get the syllable out fast enough. He falters, shifting on the counter in his periphery to face towards Yu, the small of his back up against the edge. “I… No. I’m fine.”

It’s not quite an apology or even close to an admission of guilt, but Yu is oddly touched all the same. He slides it back in the fridge and pulls out the bottle of tamari instead.

“Thanks for coming today,” Yu says as he shuffles around some more bottles and tupperware containers until he finds the vinegar. Rising up to his full height, he slides it on the counter next to the soy and stares at the side of Adachi’s face until he breaks and turns, Yu catching his gaze before he can jolt away. It’s cloudier than this afternoon behind his eyes, but it’s not black, not fully, so Yu presses on, unflinching. “It meant a lot to her.”

“Yeah, well.” Adachi shrugs, pulling himself out of his blazer arm by arm and setting it on the far end of the counter, his tie following on top of the pile. He leans up against the wall, propping himself up with one foot, and undoes the top button of his undershirt, folding the sleeves up to his elbows. He crosses his arms, thumbing a scratch at his nose. There’s a bit of shadow across his jaw like he hasn’t shaved in a few days. Yu wants to rake the back of his hand across it. “Your uncle isn’t exactly the kind of guy you can say no to.”

Yu draws a smile across his face, thin-lipped, and tries not to let it fall when all Adachi offers in return is a flick of his eyes. Maybe some of the clouds are subsiding, maybe it’s just a trick of the light, but Yu reaches for the second switch in the kitchen anyway, illuminating the fixture just above his prep area. He pulls the bag over, pulling out each ingredient before discarding it underneath the sink with the rest of their recycled Junes bags.

“Tell me about it,” Yu says, continuing to send that smile in Adachi’s direction. He just blinks, watching Yu out of the corner of his eye as he separates out the tofu preparation from the rice. He takes in his full array of items, frowning at the relatively simple work and disproportionately large amount of rice in front of him for dragging seconds until inspiration strikes. “Do you like edamame?”

“Hmm?” Adachi asks, Yu’s words seeming to draw him out of his fascination with the window above the sink. “Sure, that’s fine.”

Yu nods, opening up the freezer and tossing a pack of edamame on the counter before returning to the fridge and rifling around the crisper drawer. He doesn’t have nametake, but he has shiitake mushrooms he can marinate in a pinch, and the rest of the seasoning for both dishes he keeps as pantry staples—the result of a massive and wholly necessary shopping trip his first week here. He pulls them out, along with two stalks of leek, and finally satisfied with his plan, he pulls up the sleeves of his sweater, and gets to work.

The first few moments leave him preoccupied, fishing around the kitchen for various bowls and utensils and measuring cups he’ll need from clockwork memory as Adachi’s eyes light up the back of his shoulder blades and down his sides, the other man impassive as he works. It’s not what Yu wants anymore. The silence he simmered in with him just a few weeks ago now feels hostile and foreign with the edge hidden within his gaze. He convinces himself it’s preferable to the alternative all the way up until he’s completed the dashi marinade and soaking Marukyu’s famously porous cooking tofu. When his fingers dip beneath the sauce, something within him has reached its limit.

“Can you help me with the sushi rice?” Yu asks over his shoulder, and no matter how slyly Adachi pretends to stir at the sound, Yu can’t help but think they both know he’s been caught red-handed. He’s been staring at him the whole time, and the snapping break in tension is evidence that the anticipation might have been mutual. “I need to get it started while I work on the side dish.”

He doesn’t really need help with the rice. He could get it started faster than it’ll take to explain it, but that’s not the point. He wonders if Adachi knows it too, but either way, he lets his shoulders fall and he peels off from the wall, positioning himself on the other side of the sink with his arms still crossed.

“I’m not exactly a great cook, you know,” he explains in a slow drawl, expressively intonated and wide-eyed despite the hard line the corners still fall into. “Not the best idea to ask for my help.”

“It’s easy,” Yu offers, rinsing his hands under the water once the tofu is fully submerged and tactfully not taking a step back when he’s finished, wiping his hands on the towel across the oven handle between them. Adachi flinches, small, but makes no move to add the distance back. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

Reaching for the rice cooker, he crouches down and presses a gentle hand to Adachi’s knee, and while he braces for the inevitable flinch away, he doesn’t move at all at the touch, staring down at him beneath the fringe of his hair as the back of Yu’s hand remains frozen against him. Yu looks up, head tilted just so as he touches him again, a little higher on the leg this time, and he seems to finally get the memo, shuffling a step to the side and jolting his head away. It’s just enough distance for Yu to reach into the cabinet and procure the pot, if he pulls it at an angle.

He swings around to Adachi’s other side and carries the spices he’ll need with him after placing the cooker on the counter, reaching around Adachi’s narrow waist to plug it into the wall. He feels the man shiver at the accidental brush of his elbow against his ribs, and Yu bites his lip behind the shadow of his back, willing himself not to react.

He watches Adachi turn over the bottle of furikake in his hand, brows furrowed in an unreadable expression. Grabbing the vegetables, Yu washes the leeks and sets the mushrooms out on a towel as he narrates: rinse the grains and put the rice and water in, measure it out, just like that. Another bowl for the seasoning. Vinegar, sugar, a bit of rice wine. A generous pinch of this, Nanako likes the seaweed bits, a little bit less of that, it’s already salty, the whisk is in the drawer to your left.

All the while, Yu tries to both monitor his progress and tend to his own vegetable duties at the same time, gingerly brushing dirt off mushrooms as he studies the surprising precision with which Adachi levels out each measurement, bony shoulders tense beneath his thin shirt as he steadily pours vinegar into the cup. There’s an intention and focus in his eyes, and even as Yu reaches for the chopping knife underneath the drawer, he finds himself oddly enraptured by the sight, foreign and new even after all this time. Bravery and circumstance have never allowed a moment quite like this before—the two of them working together for others rather than Yu cooking for him on their nights alone, side by side in the kitchen rather than across the room.

It strikes him, as he chops the bulbs off the leeks, that he’s never actually seen Adachi even attempt to cook, never seen the shine of Yu’s metal utensils bounce off the light and back onto the contours of his face, never seen such unbridled concentration illuminate those lines. The quiet is back, but this time, it settles easily between their working hands, and the figure Adachi casts in his kitchen is too dear an apparition to chase away with his words.

It’s a simple recipe, but as the rice cooks, Adachi takes his time with it, whisking slow and steady once everything is combined, and Yu feels his own pace take on a more relaxed quality, bringing the knife down deliberate across the stalks. He switches over to the mushrooms, a bit more cumbersome of a shape than straight leeks, but he still trusts his hands to remember for him, keeping his eyes firm on Adachi’s thin wrists.

It’s only when he feels those eyes upon him again that he looks back up to meet them, but when he does, there’s a softness in there he hasn’t seen all day, something so close to clear, and Yu inhales and brings the knife down right on the edge of his first finger.

“Fuck,” he swears on impulse, wrenching his hand back to keep the blood off the cutting board and wincing as bright red drops litter across the floor with the motion. It’s not deep enough to need stitches, he can tell that right away, but it’s not superficial either, right on the edge of the knuckle where he knows from experience it’ll bleed long and heavy. “I’m sorry, give me a second.”

He spins on his heel because he can already imagine Adachi’s face, shocked white and contorted with repulsion, and he doesn’t want to see the contrast, wants to selfishly keep the mental image from a second ago clean. It’s not like it’s the first time this has happened, and he’s already reaching up to cover it with his shirt en route to the first aid kit when a hand catches his shoulder and he jolts, Adachi rounding on him faster than he can jerk back out of his hold.

His face is as pale as Yu imagined, teeth biting down hard on his chapped lips, but instead of pure disgust, his face is contorted into something more complex, his own repulsion mixed with something dangerously close to shock, or maybe even concern. Yu feels his lips part, lamely, as Adachi fumbles behind him blind and hurried for the towel on the oven, flinging it off with a flick. He reaches for Yu’s hand at the same time, wrenching it free from Yu’s sweater and wrapping it tight in the dish towel, expert but indelicate ministrations pulling his bleeding finger apart from the rest so he can place the majority of the cloth around it in a hold around his palm.

It happens so fast Yu doesn’t even have time to speak until Adachi pulls back again, gripping to the oven handle and looking faint, his own hand pressed to the back of his lips. Yu lifts his hand, cradled tight in the wrap despite the throbbing, and looks at Adachi through it, terrified of the expression that must be on his own face, the sting too strong to hide the awe that’s gripping his chest.

“Clean up the floor,” Adachi coughs into his hand, and he must have seen it, because he jerks his head away, knuckles white in their hold as he looks pointedly out the window and away from the blood splattered around Yu’s feet across the linoleum. “I’m not big on blood.”

Yu cracks a smile, feeling odd and uneven across his face, because he knows that. He’s always known that. That’s why it takes him so long to register his words, blinking at him slow before he reaches for a handful of paper towels, and Adachi takes them from him with a jerk of his hand to dampen before he gives them back. Yu tosses them under his feet and shuffles until the floor is clean, depositing them in the trash and cradling his hand to his chest when he stands.

Yu doesn’t really know what to say, and Adachi doesn’t seem eager to find the answers, so after a while, Yu picks up the knife again to wash quickly before he returns to work. “A police officer who’s not big on blood, huh?”

Adachi shrugs, an unidentifiable noise on his lips. He still won’t look at Yu, but he feels his gaze flicker aimlessly, almost like he wants to. “There’s always someone else to deal with that.”

It’s only when Yu turns back that he can feel himself followed as he dries and steadies the knife over the mushrooms again, careful now as he cuts in slightly thicker strips. “That’s true, I guess.”

“Besides,” Adachi shrugs, and Yu can sense his shadow lean down on the counter, elbow to the wood. “It’s not like I see much of that out here anyway.”

“No.” Yu purses his lips together to hide a wry smile. “I guess you don’t.”

Neither of them says anything more as Yu finishes chopping the rest of the mushrooms to add to the marinade, but Adachi’s fingers are tapping out a rhythm against the counter as he watches Yu’s hands move, less tense and now more familiar. But it’s strange, he thinks, what familiar is coming to mean.

“Thank you,” Yu says, once the last of the mushrooms have been added to the bowl to soak. He’ll need to saute them for the consistency he’s looking for, but he can do that at the end, while he’s pressing the sushi. “For helping just then. I know it’s not pleasant.”

“It’s whatever,” Adachi replies, curling his fingers around the edge of the counter. Slowly, they meet each other’s eyes, and he can see his own reflection in the cracked brown of Adachi’s, bright where the light hits the pupil. Outside, there’s the sound of faint laughter down the alley. “Don’t mention it.”

Yu won’t.

Dinner is a hit, or at least Yu’s fairly confident it will be as he delicately presses the rice inside the tofu pockets while Adachi stirs together the remaining rice, edamame, and mushrooms in a serving bowl. He doubts anything could be less, judging by Nanako’s continued boundless excitement as she floats through the kitchen, in and out to grab tea and water for Dojima and herself.

She tells them about the paper dolls they released into the river as she and Dojima settle to kneel at a modest makeshift altar of Hina dolls, a scruffed-up holiday box Yu recognizes from the hall closet at its side. Tea in his hands, Dojima leans back, glassy-eyed, and watches as Nanako arranges the delicate, antique-looking little dolls to her liking, tongue between her teeth as she poses them just so, down to the detail of the wife and husband’s hands clasped together.

While she works, Yu and Adachi set out on plating their creations, Yu whispering instructions under his breath on how to arrange the mixed rice just so. He even digs out the infrequently-touched decorative soy sauce dishes from the upper cabinet, a wedding gift of Dojima’s, he once learned, and washes off the dust before placing each delicately in the plate centers.

“Not bad, right?” Yu wagers, winking up at an Adachi who just looks more tired now than anything.

“Hmm,” he offers, noncommittal. His fingers flex against the counter, jolting slightly with Nanako’s triumphant cry as she completes her project, but when they settle, his pinkie finger brushes against Yu’s own, so slight he might have missed if his body weren’t already hardwired into his every last signal. “You should get a real bandage on that before dinner.”

Yu looks down at his hand, at the tight and slightly uneven wrap of cloth warming his palm, and finds himself loath to take it off. Still, there’s a little hint of resignation fluttering between both of them, imperceptible, and Yu nods. “Right. A little more inconspicuous.”

“You need to disinfect it.” Adachi shrugs, flickering open the array of cabinet drawers in front of him in rapid succession until he finds what he’s looking for, procuring four pairs of chopsticks from Dojima’s higher-end cookware and setting each on the edge. “And it might be easier to eat with, too.”

As if to prove his point, Adachi places the final pair of chopsticks in his bandaged hand, a thin smile pulling at his lips as Yu attempts to wrangle the utensils to his commands. He’s not left-handed in the first place and would be using them with his uninjured dominant side anyway, but the way he mangles even a simple motion with them makes Adachi laugh, so he’ll do as he says.

“Be right back,” Yu nods, setting the chopsticks down and holding the wrapped hand to his chest behind his right. “Can you set the table?”

Yu waits for the answering nod before he turns and ducks down the hallway, shutting the lower-level bathroom behind him. With his back against the door, he breathes, and slowly unravels the cloth from around his hand, feeling the sting of releasing pressure and fresh air across the cut, still bleeding slightly and the cloth soaked several layers deep with bright red. He sighs, hissing into the pain as he rinses the wound under cold water, washing it clean and rubbing in disinfectant balm before applying two layers of bandage over the cut, flexing his fingers to test.

Satisfied, he moves to wrap the towel up, still crunched up on the edges from where Adachi had tugged and pulled the fabric to fit his hand. The center of the bloodstain is dark red, and when Yu pinches it on either side, both fingers are left with fresh wetness. It hadn’t bled through all the layers, but there must have been a halo of red forming on the outside Yu hadn’t even registered. Perhaps there was a multitude of reasons it was best to change it.

After depositing the rag in the hall laundry basket, he swings back and picks up another bandage, just for safe measure, though there’s no hint of the blood soaking through two yet.

Back out in the living room, Adachi is sitting across from Dojima at the kotatsu, picking at the rice with his chopsticks as if afraid it might be radioactive. Yu’s touched none of them have started without him yet. It was an inordinately long amount of time to put on a bandaid, he realizes, but when slides in next to Adachi without a word, everyone’s still seemingly waiting for Dojima to pick a channel.

“Put on the news,” Nanako requests, firm, seemingly losing patience and jabbing her chopsticks around a piece of inari.

Yu expects the normal conversation, about how it’s too dark and they’re trying to sit for a nice meal, but to his surprise, Dojima just scrunches his nose a little and sighs, “Sure, yeah.”

Satisfied when the switch has been made, Nanako turns to Yu, face lighting up as her lips part in wonder. “Wow, this is amazing!”

They’re on the weather. No rain for several weeks after this. Yu tries to smooth the tension out of his jaw behind a bite of his sushi, and it is incredible, actually. Maybe the best he’s ever done, and he didn’t even marinate the tofu long enough. “Adachi and I made it together.”

Adachi bristles as that, and the strategic bite of sushi he took while Yu spoke is the perfect screen for whatever calculations flash behind his eyes, chewing as he shrugs. Underneath the table, Yu shifts the cross of his legs and makes no attempt to stop his knee from making contact with Adachi’s shin.

When Adachi finally swallows it down, he’s all smiles, placing a single piece of edamame between his teeth. “We’re basically your own private chefs, huh?”

Yu can hear a glint in his tone, but he’s too caught up in Nanako’s wholehearted approval to parse it, giggling as she arranges the perfectly balanced bite of vegetables and rice.

“Seems you all had fun today,” Dojima says, putting the remote down at his side. His eyes drift between him and Adachi, and judging by the way Adachi squirms a bit in his seat, he can only assume they were treated to subtly different expressions. It was fond, for sure, but not even Yu’s was free of subtle disapproval towards their leniency. “Thanks for taking care of her. Sorry you had to wait for me.”

Yu is about to say something polite and measured before Adachi can make a face Yu doesn’t understand or cut in with something he can’t believe, but whatever was on his lips is lost in an instant, the pause in the conversation interjected to the top of the news hour. What gives way to it is only a rush of air, pushed out of him like a complete deflation of his lungs.

“Our top story tonight concerns a bizarre scandal involving Inaba natives and Tokyo City Council Secretary Taro Namatame and television reporter Mayumi Yamano," the anchor says in that same performative lilt he always uses, like it’s nothing. Like it’s nothing. “We’ll take you through the shocking details of their affair, and…”

And Yu doesn’t remember much, after that. It’s all lost in the dueling static of Adachi’s eyes and the blood on his hand.

Chapter Text

Pacing around the room with a worn planner in hand, Yu ignores the waning hours on the clock, and focuses on lining up the pieces.

He’s kept the same planner this whole time, although he hasn’t felt the need to crack it open in a while. It’s been pointless to compare notes on fresh days. Still, it’s surreal to crack the cover back open and thumb through the crinkled pages through the latter half of the year, the scratched, frantic pen marks leaving deep indents in the paper.

The pages for March are crisp and clean, filled only with the vestiges of his last days in Tokyo: packing schematics for moving, shopping to-dos, a half-completed list of places in the city he still cared to see again. He marks the second week of March with his index finger before flipping to his real destination, April, and the utter mess of a month it’s left behind. He’s thankful that his handwriting is small and the notes are efficiently arranged on the page, allowing him to locate the information he’s looking for without fuss.

His first day in town was April 11th, and Mayumi Yamano’s body was found on the 12th, but it’s not the information he’s looking for. He knows that like the back of his hand. What he needs—what’s firing his synapses tirelessly beyond even the illusion of sleep—is the space between now and then, where he’s penned two dates in a violent red. The first, April 9th, is the most likely day, based on the Inn’s records, that Adachi pushed Mayumi Yamano into the TV after meeting on the 8th, though the lack of missing persons report due to her prior request to pull security the following day upon Taro Namatame’s subsequent arrival makes it impossible to pin down for sure. Yu notes the blue-ink asterisk next to the 6th, approximating when Adachi first noticed her on the midnight channel based on his informal carbon-dating of the rumor, along with the start of the rain.

The second, though, is one he had to go searching for on his own time, found only after tracking down several weeks’ worth of archived broadcasts. Settled right in the in-between, glaring red on an otherwise mostly-blank page, is March 17th: the day the news first mentioned Mayumi Yamano’s name and kicked off coverage of the affair.

He’s lost two weeks. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he’s off by two weeks. The entire world is.

It’s the same sinking pit in his chest from when the broadcast first cut through the living room earlier tonight, but knowing doesn’t make it better. With a slight tremor in his hand, he flips it back over to early March, and makes a new note with the pen he’d been tapping on his arm. Yamano Fog Cycle Start, 2.0.

Insignificant aberrations of change over time.

His sleep isn’t the best. He’s half waiting for a nightmare, and half waiting for the Velvet Room, but neither of them come, leaving him blinking at the ceiling and shadow of the TV.

By morning, Yu wonders what Yosuke sees in him all day, if he can notice the manic jolt of notes he doesn’t need to take and the incessant tapping of his foot—or if he occasionally catches Yosuke staring at him sidelong for some other reason.

Either way, Yosuke doesn’t look nearly as enthused as he’s hoping he will when class ends and Yu turns to say, “We should go to Junes today.”

Yosuke wrinkles his nose before it’s even out of his mouth, but Yukiko is first to speak, tossing long hair over her shoulder as she packs up her bag. “I can’t, I have Inn duty today.”

“Next time, then.” As much as Yu loves her and dearly wishes she could join, he already knows that. That's why he asked. “What about you two?”

He doesn’t want to be in the business of making the agenda obvious, especially in mixed company, and he’s grateful that, for once, he won’t need to kick Yosuke under the table to get his attention. From the quirk of his brows, he already knows, but still, he asks, “Today?”

“Yeah, why not,” Chie shrugs. Yu assumes she’s clued in more by Yosuke’s reaction than Yu’s words, but she grins just the same, hoisting her bag over her shoulder. Her voice has a little bit too thick of an affect, but Yu doubts Yukiko of all people will notice. “As long as someone buys steak.”

“Sure,” Yu offers, because that’s as good a cover as any, and he’d rather escort them off the premises without delay. Even Yosuke acquiesces at that, jumping up to fall in line as they wave goodbye to Yukiko and make their way down the opposite exit of the building.

It’s not until they’ve settled in at the food court, steak in hand, that any of them bother addressing the elephant in the room, or more specifically, the elephant underneath the gaudy Junes umbrellas.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t go back in until after finals,” Yosuke says over a loud, pointed sip of some disgustingly flavored fruit soda. “It hasn’t exactly changed the past few times we’ve been in, anyway.”

Yu picks at the aluminum wrapping around his small side of takoyaki balls, because he’s right. It’s been over a week now, and aside from the low-level places they’ve traveled to thus far, Teddie isn’t keen to take them into the fog without evidence of another human inside. As frustrating as it’s been, it’s not like Yu disagrees. In all his trials, nothing’s been there, but his nails are still tapping on the table, and he knows Yosuke can hear it.

“I still think we should tell Yukiko,” Chie says around a generous bite of meat. She doesn’t bother to fully finish chewing before she continues, “I don’t like keeping things from her.”

Yu puts his hands in his lap to hide how they curl into fists, because he doesn’t know how to articulate why they can’t, not yet. Still, he says, for the sake of diplomacy, “I agree.”

Before either of them can cut in, Yu inhales, and follows it with, “But I think that’s maybe why we should go.”

Almost unintelligibly around the steak, Chie replies, “Whaddya mean?”

“We barely know anything about it.” He brought his planner with him today, for the first time in a long while, and he can feel its weight pressing on the bench at his side. “We shouldn’t wrap someone else up into it without knowing more, and I’m starting to feel weird leaving it alone.”

Sometimes, he feels a little bit guilty, the blessing and curse of knowledge making it so dangerously easy to reach in with just the right words he knows will rattle someone’s skull. It’s not the first time he’s wondered if it’s an incidental side effect of the loops he couldn’t avoid using even if he wanted to, or if it reveals something about himself he’d rather not touch. All he knows is the relief that bubbles up within him as he watches Yosuke’s face go from pinched to thoughtful.

“Yeah,” Yosuke says after a long minute, arms and legs crossed as he looks up at the sky for a moment. “I am, too.”

Chie rocks forward on the shin folded underneath her hips, stealing Yosuke’s soda from across the table and drinking long as she looks between the two, sighing after setting it down. “Promise we’ll bring her next time if nothing else happens.”

Yu doesn’t know how sure of a bet this is, and he doesn’t want to think about the consequences of walking back on it with Chie’s eyes piercing into him like that, but he puts a hand on his backpack, and says, “Yeah, we can do that.”

Yosuke frowns down at the cup, making a face before pulling off the lid and tossing back the rest of his drink without it, sending her a half-hearted glare as he discards the cup into a bin over his shoulder. “Let's go, then.”

Inside, Junes is busier than ever with the milder days encroaching on the week, but that only makes it all the easier to step between customers to the electronics section. On the way down, he thinks about black and red spirals through the static and ‘x’d out posters in dried blood, but when he floats down to the studio, it’s the same as it ever was.

Except for it’s not, not quite.

Teddie is waiting for them when they get down—a hallmark of later months, but a fact that immediately sets Yu on edge for this early in their acquaintanceship. There’s a deep line of worry across Teddie’s cartoonish eyes and a circle of slightly-faded tiles where he’s been kicking up dust pacing, but when he sees them fall, he stands at attention before them as they crawl to their feet.

“It’s been way, way too long!” It’s not the angriest Yu’s ever seen the bear look, but it has to rank in the top five. He taps a paw into the floor impatiently, claws curled into little fists propped on his sides, his best scowl still registering a piece of snorted laughter from Chie. He purses the line of his mouth, and continues, “Do you have any idea what I’ve had to deal with down here?”

Yu, who was fighting off amusement bubbling behind the twist of his lips, immediately swallows it back with an exhaled rush of cold air into the truth. “No, I don’t.”

Yu takes stock of the studio around them, and finds the same formless fog and dangling TV wires he always does, with nothing but the vague whispers and moans of the shadows in the slow-turning wind no matter how closely he listens. Yosuke glances over to Yu for just a flicker as he listens before sending his eyes back to Teddie. He clicks his tongue, sighs, and says, “Weren’t you the one who said everything’s the same unless we show up?”

“Everything was the same until you showed up,” Teddie insists. Chie flinches slightly at a particularly intense groan of a shadow on the wind; it takes Yu off-guard a bit as well, but it’s nothing unusual. If he’s able to identify anything at all, yet, it’s a sense that the world’s nauseating electromagnetic atmosphere might be pulling stronger against his body. “But somehow, you leaving only made it worse!”

Yu swallows past the lump in his throat to clean his glasses, even though they never smudge down here, just to see if it’s any different to the naked eye, but it’s just more fog. “What do you mean?”

Teddie wraps his mouth around the start to several different sounds before growling in frustration and stomping his paws into the floor. “I can’t even explain it! I have to just show you.”

“Okay, then show us,” Chie prompts, quirking an eyebrow hard as Teddie makes no attempts to move.

“I can’t,” Teddie insists, as if this is obvious. Maybe it’s a result of knowing him too long, but the shifting impatience in Yosuke’s aura is immediately palpable at his side. “It’s far too dangerous.”

Yosuke crosses his arms hard from where they were already folded over his chest, and Yu tries to soak up some of the straightforward energy radiating off of him, looking to it for land in the tide of something uneasy pooling in his own chest. “That’s what you've said about everything, and so far we’ve been fine.”

Teddie shakes his head so hard Yu’s afraid it might separate from his body. “You don’t understand. The energy from this is…”

Whatever he was going to say gets swallowed up in a floor-shaking moan from somewhere out in the fog. It sounds almost impossibly close, like a clap of long-rattling thunder, and Yu finds himself waiting breathlessly for a flash of light that never comes. It’s seconds after it rings out before anyone speaks again, and in the space it takes, Yu tries to outrun the avalanche of worst scenarios.

“Seems like if we wanted to find it, it wouldn’t be hard,” Yosuke hedges, adjusting the fall of his glasses and glancing at Teddie over the rim, whose face is already starting to fall in resignation. “So we can either wander around in the fog, or you can take us there.”

Teddie’s shoulders rise up high to his head as he looks between the three of them before he sighs and lets them drop. “Okay, but I’m really warning you. It’s not like what you’ve faced before.”

Chie starts into some sort of clarifying question, but Yu’s blood is pumping through his ears, and he doesn’t want to hear it. “I’ll make sure no one gets hurt. Promise.”

Teddie’s eyebrows soften, and Yu wipes the clamminess off his hands onto his uniform pants. .

True enough, their apparent destination isn’t far from the studio at all, but it’s almost disturbing just how close it is. Everything beyond the set is shrouded in fog from the vantage point of the stage, but down any given direction to the neighboring sets, all but the path is lost to the skies. That isn’t unusual. What’s unusual is the direction Teddie takes them in—off to the left where Yu has spent hours pacing what he knows is a dead end behind the set that drops off into the gaping jaws of nothingness below—and then keeps going.

Where there used to be only the jagged edge of the studio’s end, there’s now the creeping merge of dirt and grass into the cracks of the tile, crumbling linoleum giving way to swaths of weeds and fallen leaves on a seemingly-solid forest floor. Yu tests the tip of his toe against the dirt, and looks up into a veil of fog so thick even his glasses can barely make out what lays several inches from his nose. As Teddie leads them to a halt at the demarcation line, Yu squints into the mist, rolling out past his feet like it’s emanating out from the path’s depths. He can make out the silhouette of trees, narrow and pushing so tall above his head he can hardly see the top, cutting into the sky in rows.

The magnetic energy is worse, here, and Yu’s bones are buzzing beneath the skin, distinct from the sweat on the back of his neck. The others seem to be feeling it too, Yosuke pale and Chie propping up an elbow on Teddie’s head to steady herself despite his protests. Closer now, the screeches of shadows fill the air well above their voices; the four of them have to lean in close to hear Teddie as he speaks.

“The energy coming out of here is off the charts,” he exclaims, shivering in his little bear suit. “One day there was nothing, and the next day, there was this, and it keeps getting more and more active. I can’t think with all the noise, and I got my fur ripped to shreds just trying to peek in!”

“Then let us take care of it.” Yosuke claps a hand down on Yu’s shoulder, smiling through the slight green tinge to his face. Yu gives one back to the best of his ability, but judging by how Yosuke’s lips tighten, he doesn’t guess it’s his most successful attempt.

Teddie’s expression of doubt is muffled by another unidentifiable noise from beyond, and Yu inhales deep before letting Yosuke guide them through the fog and onto the dirt, Yu’s stomach flipping in anticipation of a free fall that never comes. They put one foot in front of the other, once, twice, and like a prolonged bolt of lightning, everything goes silent and white.

The veil between the worlds lifts, and while the fog still dances between the branches of winter pines, their dew-soaked needles swaying and crackling bark reaching up towards low-hanging clouds, the ground beneath them is all but clear. Yu’s never once seen the sun in the TV world, or at least, he’s never seen it like this, caught low in the sky behind the clouds in a late glow of golden hour, warm light dangling through the long shadows of the trees and catching their breath in twinkling crystals of air. The air is damp, faintly, a chill to the breeze that cuts beneath his jacket, but rather than the creaking screams of shadows, all Yu hears is the faint babbling of water, eerily cutting through an otherwise completely silent forest.

Twisting behind him, he can still see the faint edges of black and red studio tile with dirt rolling on top from where their feet kicked it up, but it’s everything beyond it that’s now shrouded behind the veil of fog, less of a gentle tide like what pours through the trees and more of an impenetrable wall, dark and as thick as the serene quiet of what lays before them.

“The shadows call it Yomi,” Teddie explains after what feels like several minutes of silence, Yu so mesmerized in his surroundings he barely notices his companions caught up in the same until they’re brought back down to reality by his voice. “A collective of souls.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Yu recalls a lesson on an island these two haven’t been to yet, but it's not enough to be specific. Though he recognizes it in passing, he’s only seen the word once or twice in recent years in the book that teacher handed out, too thick and dense to do anything with but flip through in boredom on the loops he managed to make it that far. The frustration of not being able to contextualize it further threatens to choke him.

There’s a narrow path winding out in front of him towards the sun, sloping out down to where he can’t see like there’s a drop-off beyond his reach. To the right and left, there are only trees, mostly pine and all tall as the sky, stretching back deeper than his eyes reach down the horizon.

Yosuke clears his throat when Yu doesn’t take the point, putting a hand up to one of the trees. He breaks off a piece of bark, turning it over in his hands with a scowl. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” Teddie shrugs, throwing his little claws in the air with a flourish of his arms, as if this place somehow speaks for itself. “But it seems to have something to do with your ‘real’ world.”

Yu raises his hand into the air, and the sun glistens against the moisture in the mist, so thick it glitters like diamonds between his fingers, dancing when he turns his palm to block the light from his eyes. “The ‘real’ world, or Inaba?”

Teddie doesn’t seem to understand the question, but aside from the group of outsiders Yu can count on one hand, most people in this town don’t quite grasp the distinction. His expression twists from confusion to frustration, and with another inelegant stomp, he shakes Chie off, and barks, “Enough hard questions! All I know is that the shadows that used to wander the fog have ended up here!”

“So, this is the only place there are shadows anymore?” Yosuke asks after a minute of tapping at the tree bark, looking between Yu and Chie as if they too have some sort of answer written across their faces he isn’t grasping yet. Yu shifts a little underneath it, switching his weight on his feet. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“That’s not what I said,” Teddie insists, his attention span and patience beginning to fray again. “There are still shadows everywhere, it’s just that the ones that used to be nowhere are now somewhere, and that somewhere is here. See?”

Yu barely does, and Chie looks two seconds away from unceremoniously kicking him into the forest, so he’s confident it’s just Yosuke coming to the same conclusion he has with Teddie when he says, “Sure, sure.”

“Can we leave, then?” Teddie asks, a gust of wind spooking him into a shiver and an attempt to grab onto Chie’s arm, which she pushes away from with a seamless side-step. “There’s no point in going in, I’ve already told you. You’re outmatched.”

“Don’t underestimate us, bear,” Chie scowls, all confidence and heat, and as baseless as it is, Yu is grateful for it. “Of course we’ve gotta check it out, especially if it has to do with our world.”

No matter where Yu looks, and how carefully he squints through the trees, he can’t find a single hint of a blue door. A squeeze of panic clenches in his chest. They’ve traveled distances short and long in this world with their only outpost in the main studio, but this place feels a million miles away from that now. He’s lucky he always keeps his strongest masks in his back pocket, because even with the ability to turn around and walk out itching at the back of his mind, the separation from that particular lifeline cuts thick.

“We’ll handle it,” Yosuke nods, turning to Yu with an unspoken question in his eyes that he barely remembers to return with a nod of his own before Yosuke can set his eyes square to the rest of them. He’s going through the balance of move sets in his head, even though his roster hasn’t changed in loops and he’s been over it a thousand times. “Won’t we, guys?”

Yu closes his eyes, listens for the faint sound of water, and follows where it leads.

They do not handle it.

Well, Yu handles it, because he’s deliriously well-equipped to handle just about anything at this point on a purely physical level, but it’s not himself he has to worry about. Despite Teddie’s well-documented propensity for hyperbole, Yu’s worst fear—that in this, he’s entirely accurate—comes to fruition almost immediately.

Like the shallow tide pools of the beach giving way to the sudden drop of deep ocean, Yu is right about the geography of the land. After the initial wind in the path, which takes them down left towards a mountainside in the far-off distance only just then distinct through the fog, several more short changes in direction bring them sharply face-to-face with the edge of a cliffside, the narrow dirt vanishing to just a sliver as it trickles down the side of a steep downward drop, the forest opening up into a wide chasm as far as the eye can see. Everywhere, there are still trees, but in the distance, he can see two slivers of blue ribbon drawing languid marks through the land, and he can hear the sound of their water, tracing their path to falls rushing down from the mountains in the background.

What’s most immediately apparent, though, are the sheer number of shadows. Here, from a birds-eye view, they’re crawling over the forest like ants, black pulsating dots lining the floor and dragging across the dirt in aimless zombified circles, their energy lighting the landscape up like a fire billowing up towards the sky. It’s hundreds of feet down at least, but Yu can still feel their sightless eyes upon him, thousands of souls animated by inhuman heat. The only thing visible at the bottom of the drop is a single TV, covered in growing moss and ivy. At least they won’t have to climb back up, depending on where it leads.

More hand-wringing is necessary before they start their descent to the bottom, but once they find purchase on the cliff face, it’s easier than it looks. It’s just like walking on level ground, really, each step leading seamlessly into the other even as Yu’s body itself dangles in a free-fall, stomach lurching at the sudden twisting of gravity as the ground slowly moves closer and closer. At the bottom, there’s a small clearing to gather their thoughts and sense of equilibrium before the forest closes back up around them again, but as soon as they enter the throng of trees, the shadows are already lying in wait.

Right out of the gate, the monsters within them are ones Yu’s never once seen before summer, and late summer at that, two degrees of skill class higher than Yosuke and Chie are even aware of. They’re unconscious before Yu can even switch to something capable of killing it, and the satisfaction of doing so in one hit is a lot less of a consolation prize with his friends on the ground. In the end, Teddie is the only one that sees him, which is perhaps all the better—he accepts Yu’s handwaved excuse as further evidence of his mastery, and doesn’t blink at Yu’s immediate ability to heal them when the dust has fallen. What the others don’t see they can’t argue with, especially from half-concussed on the ground, and he figures they're too grateful for Yu’s own health to try and question why he doesn’t have a scratch.

It takes three more rounds of that before it finally wears the two of them down, but to Yu, it feels like an eternity. On the forest floor, scratched and bruised with leaves matted in his hair and another shadow shuffling through twigs and leaf litter in the distance, Yosuke finally looks up at him and says, “Maybe the bear was right. We shouldn’t be here.”

It says a lot that Teddie is busy tugging at Chie’s arm to go back rather than taking the chance to gloat about this admission, and even more so that Chie willingly lets him. As for Yu, he just extends out his hand to Yosuke, who takes it even as he looks him up and down with a raised eyebrow, the corner of it cracked with a bit of dried blood.

“Why aren’t you beat up?” Yosuke asks, dropping his hand slow when he rises to his feet to wipe some of the dirt off his uniform, as futile an endeavor as that is.

Yu doesn’t know how to answer that in a way that isn’t incriminating, so he shrugs and says, “Why didn’t I have a shadow like you two?”

“Point, I guess,” Yosuke says, shoving both his hands in his pants pockets and following Yu’s footsteps down the path.

It’s not fast enough, though, because another shuffle of the trees catches Yu’s ears and he sends a glance back over his shoulder, only to come face to face with the eyes of yet another shadow, gurgling in attention as it locks them into its sight. Without his higher facilities—Yu turned those off the second he stepped into this place—his only instincts are exhaustion and protection, and both lead to his hand gripping Yosuke’s shoulder and pulling him as he runs after the others, full-speed back towards the entrance.

“You guys go,” Teddie says when they reach the cliffside again, gesturing to the TV with wild hand motions. “They won’t hurt me if I don’t attack. I’ve gotten back up before.”

“Where does this lead?” Chie starts to ask, which is more than a fair question, especially if the cliffside is as easy to scale in the opposite direction, but the shadow’s nearly at the treeline, and even if Yu can handle it, the fear it’s inspiring in the others is real. Either way, Teddie’s foot is already kicking in the back of her knees to send her tumbling through the TV, and there’s nowhere else to go but follow.

It’s not a particularly big TV by modern standards, and even though it’s large for the old box kind, Yu still sends Yosuke an apologetic glance before tossing him in second. He nods at Teddie, a silent command to be safe despite the knowledge he will be, and with a deep inhale, Yu holds onto the top of the frame, exhales, and shoots his legs through the screen.

When he comes to right-side up after the tumble down through the static, he’s sitting on the floor of his own bedroom, completely alone. Inside his pants pocket, his phone is already ringing, and he doesn’t bother to check the ID before putting it to his ear.

“Where are you?” Yosuke asked, hurried and crackled like he’s panting into it. Yu shifts up onto his hips, already feeling a bruise coming on from how hard he landed on the unforgiving carpet.

“In my room,” Yu says, blinking around just to make sure that’s really true. There’s a pile of cranes he’d been folding half-completed still on his desk, and the calendar lines up with reality, so he assumes it has to be. Downstairs, he can hear the faint hum of the TV. “Where are you?”

“Same,” Yosuke breathes, his voice becoming a little clearer as he shifts. “Chie, too. But my TV doesn’t go anywhere, I’ve tried it. I can’t even put my hand through it.”

Yu rolls forward, balancing his phone pinched between his shoulder and ear as he leans towards the TV, and crawls until he can put his hand up to the surface. Like always, his fingertips sink through in rippling rings of static, and he hides a faint gasp behind a shuffle of his body, lying, “Same.”

“Let’s not go back there,” Yosuke says, but Yu’s mind is already whirring a mile a minute, buzzing with the contact from the screen. “At least not yet. And if we go into the TV, we go together. Promise?”

“Promise,” Yu says, before saying his goodbyes and letting the line fall dead. He puts his phone on the floor and his back against the table, and tries to just breathe.

One day, he won’t have to do this. One day, he can just tell the truth.

There’s too much to process, too much flickering through his mind like rapid-fire changing channels to entertain that day is even close.

But he has to believe it’ll come.

It’s then that realization hits him, belatedly, and only when the adrenaline finally fades from his body is he able to put it into words.

Yomi. Yomi-no-Kuni. The Shinto Land of the Dead.

He has no idea what that means, except for the creeping inclination he’s maybe making a pretty big mistake. But it’s too late, now.

Always too late.

That promise doesn’t last long, but it lasts longer than Yu thinks it will. Unlike the last time he went back on his word to them like this, he at least doesn’t do it later the same night. It’s a shallow progress, if any.

Instead, he waits for the day after next, twitchy in his desk through class but all too cognizant of Yosuke and Chie’s focus on him whenever the lessons pause. He waits until night falls after a visit to bring coffee to Kanji and his mother and a shift at Shiroku, where the monotonous drone of salarymen and routine tasks provides an excellent reprieve from the dozens of mythology articles now bookmarked on his phone, playing on repeat in his thoughts.

He thinks he sees someone he recognizes at the back, slight and drinking at the table alone, because he can feel eyes on his back when his hands are beneath the dish suds. He knows he does when he hangs up his apron and Adachi’s standing at the bar closing his tab, a loose sort of expression on his face.

“You’re out late, kid,” he remarks, and Yu would be offended if it weren’t true. He rarely wraps up before midnight. “I should really make sure you get home safe, it’d look bad if something happened and I saw you.”

Yu feels a smile push at his lips, thin with some sort of twisting amusement he can’t quite quantify, and slings his bag over his shoulder. “If you insist.”

It’s a quiet walk on a crisp night, and when they cross the laughably short distance to the house, Adachi nods once and doubles back the other way to his apartment like it really was all professional, leaving Yu standing in the quiet landing of the house and missing the sound of his breath at his side.

Up in his room, he crawls through the TV head-first and winds up with his cheek pressed up against the forest dirt, rough with foliage cutting into the side of his lip. Pushing forward, he manages to pull his body all the way out and up to a crawl, and even though it’s past midnight back in Inaba, the forest is still alight in that eternal yellow glow, haloed by a falling sun and golden glittering fog, unchanging.

No matter how deep into the forest he goes, nothing seems to change. Nothing within it proves a challenge for him, even alone and unguided, and the only paranoia that follows him is the fear that Teddie will somehow sense him even down here, pushing him farther and farther past the shadows and uncut branches through the winding trails. Beyond where they’d stopped as a group, the singular path becomes trickier to follow, looping back around in itself into dead ends and forks and offshoots, but he can tell where he’s stepped by the disturbance of leaves on the dirt. The shadows undulate just inches above it, so he drags his feet down hard to mark his path and rarely looks back, ears peeled for any disturbance.

Out farther, it’s less quiet, but not because of the sounds of shadows. Rather, like the babbling brook at the entrance, it sounds like a forest, as real and tangible as day—the flow of branches in the wind, the sound of birds and scurrying fauna—but all without any visual cues to back them up. The forest looks the same at every turn. The only evidence Yu has that he’s moving at all are the mountains in the distance and the upward grind in the strength of the shadows, but even then, the changes are slight.

He has no idea how long he’s there, only that his body gives up before he does, and that’s the only indication he takes to leave. He’s lost count of the shadows somewhere along the line, but after a particularly large one falls, he presses his back to the trunk of a tree and is forced to catch his breath, his legs burning from the sheer pace and strength of each fight, individually minimal but taking a toll on his constitution as they pile up. He still looks countless kilometers from the mountains.

The second he stops moving, the weight of it catches up to him, and he’s sinking to the forest floor before he can take another step, snapping himself back to the entrance before he hits the ground. He winds up face to face with the TV again, the woods hushed around him and no sign of life for miles.

He stares at the blank screen and tries to pick off a piece of moss, but it won’t break, like it’s attached to something organic and symbiotic rather than inanimate. When he crawls back through, for a split second, the light on the other end makes him fear the forest now lies on the other side of the portal as well before he blinks to take in the window of his bedroom, morning sun peeking out through the clouds.

There’s barely enough time to shower before class. Sleep is ruled out from the equation entirely, but he doesn’t stop to give it much thought.

Exams are coming up in the next few weeks, and even the veneer of pretending to study is exhausting. It’s another set of tests he hasn’t technically taken before, but everything within the study guides is numbingly easy, and within seconds of gazing over it during their group’s cram sessions, his mind always starts to wander. After a few days, he takes to pulling out his planner on top of his textbooks and flipping through the pages, trying to arrange what’s left of the timeline.

If they’re off by two weeks, then he has to work on the side of caution. He circles the weekend of the 25th through 27th in red ink, compressing his already tiny handwriting to take a handful of notes the others can’t read from any distance around their Junes table, not even Yukiko, who takes to peering at his notes in unsubtle curiosity every time she thinks he’s not looking to compare. Underneath, he scrawls, Inn Weekend.

Pretending to go through the motions by day wouldn’t be so grinding if night brought any progress, but it does not. At most, he’s noticed there are now little markers in the forest, signposts scrawled with archaic words in weather-faded kanji. The fatigue is setting in earlier and earlier, but the mountains remain distant, and nothing new has been garnered since the first time they entered. Still, he feels compelled to go almost every night, and while he’s able to gauge the slightly off-kilter passage of time relative to the rest of the TV world’s already unique relationship to reality after the first few nights, sleep has been the sacrifice in keeping his secrecy.

He takes up more shifts at Shiroku, too, which doesn’t help. It’s half for the money, which an increased burn through his remaining items has necessitated for the first time in ages, and half for the fact he notices Adachi there more often than he doesn’t, at the same dark table. Sometimes Dojima’s with him with his back strategically placed to Yu in willful ignorance, but sometimes he’s alone. On those nights, he always offers to walk him home, and despite the uncharacteristic silence of their journeys, Yu always accepts. Something feels on the edge, and he’s afraid to break the serenity, the easy way Adachi asks about his days like he gives a shit, by daring to unravel its truth.

Words on textbooks blur until he feels delirious, but it doesn’t threaten to interfere with his comprehension of it, so it’s of little concern. He’s still able to keep up without falling asleep in class, and considering his even lower barometer for success on previous loops, he’ll take it.

Exams pass without incident, but Yu barely remembers taking them, only that he turned them in, and the rest of his friends are positively jubilant by the end of the week, so he must have. After the last class wraps up, Yukiko and Chie apparently have another score to settle with Yosuke, who appeases them, as always, with a celebratory trip to Junes. Yu registers with a churn of his stomach that the steak Yosuke puts in front of him at their table is the only real food he’s had in days.

“First year of high school,” Chie begins, wadding up a handful of torn note pages before tossing them into the air triumphantly, grinning as the pieces fall. “Done!”

First year of high school, sixth year of high school, 721st day of high school, something like that. Yu’s not keeping track anymore. Yukiko blinks at her blankly until she seems to get the memo to slink out of her seat and collect the pieces, taking a sip of Chie’s hot chocolate as she goes.

“I’m just glad we can finally sleep again,” Yosuke sighs, all but collapsing into the shared basket of calamari. “Especially this one,” he adds, elbowing Yu sharply in the ribs.

Yu presses his fingertips to where his elbow collided, processing his words slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

Yosuke gives a hum like he’s not at all convinced of that, so Yu turns and flashes an easy smile, leaning on his hand. “Who’s to say I slept before?”

Yosuke just rolls his eyes, and Yu keeps the exhale of tension that releases to himself behind his teeth when Yosuke sighs and says, again, “Point, I guess.”

The Spring Festival follows in whiplash succession, and the fever pitch building in the notes arranged in his planner starts ticking up and up, until it requires enough intensity of his focus to pull him out of the TV and back into his head once finals are finished, just enough to set up the pieces in motion.

Plans with the three of them are a given, but the second Yu whips out a picture of Nanako from his wallet the day of the festival, the girls are sold, and Yosuke needed no further convincing to begin with. He goes with Yu to swing by the house and pick her up to find her standing by the door with her shoes and yukata already on, bouncing on her heels from when Yu had insinuated the night before she’d be invited. That’s a promise he’s never broken, after all.

He drew out multiple versions of the plan, just to be thorough, but Yu’s never seen an interaction tee’d up as perfectly as when he introduces Yukiko and watches Nanako’s eyes go wide.

“Her family owns the hot springs,” Yu explains, holding Nanako’s hand as they step off to the side as a group, away from the bustle of the rest of the shrine. “The famous Amagi Inn.”

“Wow,” Nanako intones, a spark in her eyes that fires up something he’s let grow cold in his chest these past few weeks. “That’s so cool! I’ve never been to a hot spring before!”

“Me neither,” Yu says, because it’s technically not a lie. He hadn’t been to one until much later in the year.

“Really?” Yukiko asks, matching her energy so completely that he’s confident, as always, Nanako has her hook line and sinker from the get-go.

Yu has the feeling Yukiko is poised to say something else, but whatever it is, it gets cut off by Chie yelling around a sweet sesame ball skewer she and Yosuke had tracked down, insisting, “We should take Nanako to the Inn! To celebrate finals!!”

“Not much to celebrate in your score,” Yosuke quips, coming dangerously close to whacking her hair with his syrup-dripped skewer before seeming to stop himself and pull back. He sticks it back in his mouth and chews indelicately around some variation of, “Sounds good, though.”

“Speak for yourself,” Yukiko reminds him, just barely beating Chie to the punch of what was surely something along the same lines. She glances up and catches Yu’s eyes with a tilt of her eyebrows, a new and yet well-worn unspoken kinship between two students who rarely ever have to try. Though they both do, or at least he used to. “I don’t know, it’s not all that interesting. We may not have the openings.”

“But she’s never been,” Chie argues, crossing over from where she’d nestled in between Yukiko and Yosuke to stand on Nanako’s open side, still clinging firmly to Yu’s hand and flush against his leg. Chie folds her arms over her chest, waving her skewer defiantly as she takes another bite. “We can’t just sit by and let her live this deprived life!”

Yosuke nods along as he swallows, voice taking on that awkward, faux-academic quality it does when he’s trying to make a socially important point. “Yu, too. It’s shameful.”

Organic amusement bubbles up in Yu’s chest for what feels like the first time in weeks, but he’s all soft concern when he looks down at Nanako to ask her, “Would you like that? A hot springs trip?”

Nanako seems to consider this quite seriously for a moment, shifting back and forth on her feet as she glances between the four of them, a hum pressed behind her lips. He can see the pink of her cheeks though, and it gives away her answer long before she cracks a shy, warm smile.

“Could we really?” she asks, and Yu just squeezes her hand, glancing up at Yukiko. “That’d be so fun!”

Yukiko’s brows crease under Yu’s gaze, but when Nanako follows his focus up, she falters, expression melting like candle wax into something surprisingly much softer than resignation. It’s strange, Yu thinks, that for all the rotten luck in the world, some things just seem to fall into place for him in the most serendipitous of moments.

“I think I can get something before term starts back up,” she says, adjusting her glasses to smile down at Nanako, registering her shyness with a soft and easy voice to match her expression. “The weekend of the 25th had a cancellation today.”

Nanako’s enthusiasm blinks into full illumination like a light bulb, and Yu holds her hand to try and soak it up into his veins as much as he can, because watching the pieces line up, actually watching them, leaves him with only one thought in his mind.

Of course they did. He didn’t even have to try.

Two days later, after Yu has updated his planner and their reservation has been penciled in, he finds on the nightly news that Mayumi Yamano and Taro Namatame are returning to Inaba the weekend of the 25th.

Yu is many things, but even wading through the unknown, he likes to think he’s learned a thing or two.

The next time he enters the TV, he knows immediately he’s being followed. It’s not hard to tell. He’s gotten used to the unique electromagnetic pull of this place and the telltale metaphysics of shadows, but even more used to the oppressive sense of isolation. Credit where credit is due, because it’s immediately obvious, at the very least, that it’s not Teddie. Whoever or whatever it may be is careful in their pursuit, using the cover of trees and the pattern of sounds to their advantage, but as soon as it’s clear they’re intent on trailing him, he doesn’t waste any time on running. It’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in weeks. By the time he finds a clearing to stop in, he’s buzzing to be found out, standing at the ready on the balls of his feet.

He doesn’t know what he expects, but for some reason, he’s disappointed in himself that he didn’t see it coming sooner when Marie’s figure materializes through the trees, pushing out past the pine needles to face across him a few paces away. Her skin, pale under the best of light, looks almost translucent in the twinkling mist, the shade of the trees catching her face and blowing her pupils wide, a strange mix of emotions on her lips.

“You’re killing yourself, you know,” she says, and her voice is the same as it always is, clear with that droning, flat affect. Her brows furrow, and Yu feels twisted a little by it, something pricking at his skin. “This place is pointless.”

“What do you mean?” Yu asks, before remembering perhaps the more pressing question, “How’d you get in here?”

“I followed you,” she replies, as if that explains everything. Yu would press if he thought it would get him any further, but he doesn’t. “It wasn’t hard.”

Instead, he tries a different angle. “What do you mean, pointless?”

“It’s not going to show you its secrets just because you keep running,” Marie continues, and he can almost see the outline of the branches through her hands, free of uneven contours and blemishes. The shadows under her eyes are deep, wider than he’s ever seen, but not in a way he recognizes. Maybe it’s just a trick of the light. “I don’t know how this place works exactly, but I know it has a mind of its own. Everything else is just lost souls.”

Yu stares at her and feels gears turn in his head, rusty and so maddeningly far from clicking together fully no matter how deeply something burns underneath his skin as he takes her in. “How do you know any of this?”

“Stop coming here alone,” she warns, and when he blinks, she’s only steps away from his face. Up close, her eyes are the same as they always are, except for now turned down to something almost pitying, apologetic. “It’s not working.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but by the time he’s able to wrap around the syllables, he’s coming out of a dizzy spiral standing in his room, disoriented and alone in the waning strokes of midnight. The TV’s off behind him, and when he sets his hand up to the surface, he can still sink it in, but something tells him he won’t be able to make it all the way through even if he tried. Not tonight.

He buries his head underneath his pillow, but he doesn’t sleep. Tomorrow is the 25th, it’s fine. He can put it off for a few days. He has bigger things to deal with, anyway.

It’s fine.

He packs his bags with Nanako at his side and makes snacks for the group just the same, and it’s fine. She’s bright and keeps him anchored in his body despite the gnawing exhaustion, and it’s hard to retreat into the darkness of his thoughts with her energy filling the room. They finish with ample time to spare before Chie and Yosuke are set to swing by—Yukiko is at work, but her shift ends before nightfall—so Yu takes to teaching her to shuffle a deck of playing cards around the kotatsu, guiding her hands.

Chie occupies Nanako with compliments on her outfit, specially chosen for the occasion, so Yu walks in line with Yosuke down to the edge of town where the Amagi Inn looms tall and proud over the street. He doesn’t want the silence to be broken between them, as easy and amicable as it is, but deep down, he knows he’s digging his own grave when their steps match up to each other, even with Yu’s eyes towards the sky and their bags slung over their shoulders between them.

“Are you like, okay?” Yosuke asks as they turn down a little dirt and gravel driveway that serves as the drive-up to the hill, Yu looking over his shoulder to make sure Chie is holding Nanako an appropriate distance away from the tire tracks onto the edge of the grass. He decides to be a good role model and match it, Yosuke making up the distance with a step as well. “You’ve been really out of it, lately.”

“Just tired,” Yu replies, sending him an apologetic glance behind his sunken eyes. He’d hardly wanted to look in the mirror this morning with how each day has further deteriorated the lines of his face, not exactly in the mood for reminders of how this has all aged him. “I really needed this.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Yosuke says in a tone of voice that’s too cautious to be belief, let alone something that lets him off the hook, but there’s an apology in his eyes, too, like he’s sorry he has to ask. It doesn’t exactly make Yu feel better, but if nothing else, it takes off some of the heat from under the microscope. “I’m pretty stoked too. Let’s just sit back and relax, yeah? It’ll be good for you.”

Up closer to the Inn, the quiet of the walk is sharply cut into by the bustle of a small gang of media vans and reporters scattered around the entrance, interns with scripts and headphones flying around anchors who seem to be preparing some sort of report that hasn’t quite started yet. Yosuke’s face falls into a hard frown as they round the wall of hedges that separates the walk-up from the driveway, slowing until Chie and Nanako arrive up behind them, with Nanako pressed up against her legs.

Reluctantly, Yosuke leads them farther back into the grass in an attempt to cross as far away from the chaos as possible, but out of the corner of his eye, Yu watches Chie mess with her phone a little as they walk. Not a minute later, Yukiko appears out from the back side entrance of the Inn and ushers them through the grass, out and around from the throng of media vans converging on the front door.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t reschedule,” Yukiko apologizes once they’re inside, tucked into the employees-only hallway. She’s still in her kimono, with other similarly-dressed employees fluttering around in the background as she leads them through the passageway into a row of rooms, passing the kitchen and employee laundry rooms as they go. “There weren’t any more openings for two rooms on the same night for months.”

“We understand,” Yu assures her, as Yosuke nods in agreeal. “You can’t control the media circus.”

“It’s not like any of us knew this was going to happen,” Chie adds, and somewhere, rationally deep in the back of his mind, Yu knows it can’t possibly be as targeted as what he’s reading into, but his blood still runs cold, feeling exposed in a way he doesn’t know how to manage with a straight face. He hides it behind his collar, rubbing his nose. “It’ll be fine, it’s not like any of them are staying inside.”

Yukiko leads them down another turn in the myriad of hallways that make up the inn, the likes of which Yu has never been able to fully comprehend no matter how many times he’s been here. Two keys dangle from her knuckles, and she swings them around as she slows down in front of two adjacent doors at the end of the hallway.

“No,” she says, placing one of the keys in Yu’s palm and handing the other to Nanako, who looks equal parts thrilled and terrified with the assumed responsibility it holds. Yu reaches down to ruffle her hair, showing her his own key with a smile she returns in full. “Just Yamano and a police escort, but her check-in time isn’t until later tonight.”

Yu exhales in a punch of air. “I see.”

“I get off in about a half-hour,” Yukiko waves over her shoulder as she glides back down the hallway, adjusting the pins holding up her bun with the other hand. “Don’t feel like you have to wait for me.”

They do, of course, because they’re not savages, and it’s easier to pass the minutes all piled up together in the girls’ room after Yu and Yosuke set their bags aside on their own beds, watching Chie teach Nanako a game of cards, than it would be soaking in the hot springs without a real sense of time. It’s not to say that it’s easy, however. Even sitting up cross-legged in jeans on the bed, the feeling of a mattress underneath him has a siren’s pull from the days of low single-digit sleep, and he finds himself fighting off yawn after yawn behind his hands, even as he inevitably gets roped into the game after Nanako’s grasped the rules.

Yosuke catches him in one despite Yu’s efforts, elbowing his side as he puts down his card for the round with a, “Dude.”

Yu shrugs, sheepish as he scans the cards in his hand and reluctantly passes his turn. “Dinner will help.”

Dinner helps marginally, which is better than nothing, but everything settles uneasy and nauseous in his chest, despite the kitchen’s inarguable quality. They eat on the enclosed deck on the top floor, a little glass enclave that usually has to be rented out that overlooks the entire town from atop the hill, but despite the kaleidoscopic colors of an Inaba sunset melting over the landscape, all Yu can watch is the media tents below and the sloping road in, eyes peeled for the police vehicle he knows eventually has to come. Yukiko, finally free and dressed down to casual clothes, takes the lead on showing Nanako the sights, and Yu just nods along like he’s learning too.

The car doesn’t come by the time they wrap up dinner, but they’re walking back to their rooms when he knows it happens, because crowds upon crowds of guests seem to be passing them in the opposite direction towards the front entrance, murmurs on their lips. Yu hesitates at the turn for their hallway, only for Yosuke to bump into him headlong out of his conversation with Chie, apologizing with a spin on his heel back towards him without breaking his stride.

“Come on,” Yosuke calls, gesturing for him to follow where the rest of them have walked beyond where Yu still stands. He stirs with a shake of his head and moves like pulling on a rusty switch, blinking the fog from his eyes. “This means the springs will be clearing out.”

It takes every ounce of patience he has, every last piece of determination and blind faith and perseverance left in his body, but he manages to wait it out. Facing away from the mirror in their attached bathroom, Yu clears his thoughts and peels his jeans off one leg at a time, working shaking hands button-by-button down his torso until he can slip into a pair of sweats and a tight, well-worn white shirt, tossing his hair back together without a glance behind him. He waits until Yosuke does the same, and then ticking, precious minutes for the girls to emerge from their same arrangement, but somehow, he keeps the tension caged in the tips of his fingers where they grip red, ugly rings into his arm, face impassive and moving like rubber into mindless, monosyllabic responses to Yosuke’s small talk.

It takes just about everything he’s got, but he waits until they’re almost at the entrance to the springs to speak up, and when he does, he comes to a full stop in his stride, clearing his throat. “I left my phone back in the room, you guys can head in without me.”

“Can you make it back alright?” Yukiko asks, but Chie already has her hand on the sliding-glass entrance door, Nanako bouncing on the balls of her feet at her side.

“I can follow the signs,” Yu nods over his shoulder before he’s set off down the hallway again, purposefully ignoring the first turn that would take him in the direction of the suites. He continues to follow the path Yukiko led them down, fighting the urge to look over his shoulder every two steps before curiosity finally wins out at the next fork in the road. With no sign of prying eyes following behind him, he takes the opposite turn down the hallway to their rooms, doubling back towards the area containing the largest and most expensive rooms in the Inn. It’s a guess, in the grand scheme of things, but it’s also one he feels confident enough to hedge his bets on.

His heartbeat is in his throat with every step he takes, pounding like the rush of tidal water down a mountain in his ears and drowning out everything else around him. Patrons and hallways and doors blur in a dreamlike trance, until finally, his steps slow in front of a tall-arched open doorway, tucked deep back behind the lobby of the hotel just behind it and hidden from prying eyes aside from those who are directed to its numbered doors.

It’s lavish and darkly furnished, opening into a common room with wide, curtain-drawn windows and a TV in the corner, but Yu’s eyes barely have time to adjust before he sees the silhouette of the person he wants and fears most. Every single stolen moment of the past few months crashes down in a cascading tidal wave around at his feet as he sucks in the air between them, Adachi’s back to the entrance and his phone out in front of him in crossed arms.

Mayumi Yamano is sitting in the opposite corner, folded into an armchair and her eyes out the closed window, silent as the night that’s just starting to fall through its shadows. Neither of them are speaking. Yu barely knows how to breathe.

All he really knows how to do is grip the entrance to the door and say, “Adachi.”

The few seconds it takes him to turn around are the longest of them yet, and when their eyes slide together, Yu tries not to make it sound like the begging it is.

“Come with me.”

Chapter Text

There’s a chasm in the space where Yu’s words float in the air, and on the other side, Adachi feels miles away. The stare he gives him feels just as long, casting over shadows and shapes to lead Yu’s eyes right into the hallowed pits of Adachi’s own, dull grey and flat under the window light, and Yu would count the breaths between them if he could remember to breathe at all. Instead, they just look at each other, Yu’s chest burning and Adachi’s hands twitching at his sides, for what feels like minutes until the silence is finally broken.

“I thought you were getting up to shut the door,” a clear female voice drawls, only vaguely familiar from the nightly news in comparison to the more dressed-down tone. From over Adachi’s shoulder, Mayumi Yamano turns in the chair, glancing back in naked annoyance from behind her cropped hair.

“Right,” Adachi replies, crawling into the words to contrast how his eyes go sharp, sliding over Yu’s torso like the dull edge of a knife. “Give me just a second, sorry.”

Adachi steps off to the side and starts to pull at a heavy-looking sliding door, similar to every other in the inn, if not a bit more ornate. For a good moment, Yu wonders if he’ll just shut it in his face as he watches Adachi’s silhouette move behind the light of it across the wide doorway, but Adachi’s shoulders twist in the shadow towards Mayumi before he steps his narrow body in between the frame and the door, straddling the divider with one bony knee on either side. Yu can just make out the shape of the chair he knows Mayumi is sitting at, but nothing more.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Adachi hisses, and a shiver travels up Yu’s spine, because he sounds mad, hard and muttered like he’s trying to hold it down. He looks mad, too, from the line of his eyes and fingers clenched around the doorframe. It’s been a while since he’s seen him angry for real, and it’s arresting, his breath catching in his throat.

“I’m here for the weekend with my friends,” Yu explains, darting his eyes down either side of the hallway quickly before settling back on Adachi. This part of the Inn is tucked away and hard to find without direction, and there’s quiet down each end of the hall, making their deep breaths even louder. There’s a light flush to Adachi’s face, like just getting here was a journey on its own, and Yu feels for him, distantly. Adachi’s always hated reporters. “What are you doing here?”

Adachi narrows his eyes, like he somehow knows it’s a ploy at ignorance, but after licking his chapped lips and rolling his bony spine against the doorframe, he answers, words clipped. “I’m on duty. In case you couldn’t tell.”

“On bodyguard duty?” Yu pretends to infer, gesturing with his shoulder inside, voice low. Capturing her attention isn’t exactly in his plan, even if he can admit there may have been smarter ways to go about ensuring that. “Are they at least giving you a room?”

“No,” Adachi snaps, jerking up from where he’d slipped a bit down the doorframe and bashing his knee into the screen of the door in the process, wincing deep but not reaching for the part of his kneecap that will most assuredly bruise by morning. He shakes it off, pulling the screen deeper into his chest. “But you can call it that, whatever. What’s it matter to you? I’m busy. Go back to your friends.”

He turns to dislodge the knee on Yu’s side of the frame, but before he can think to restrain himself, Yu’s surging forward with a hand to the screen, nearly stumbling before he comes to rest against the metal framework. It’s a cool anchor on his side, and now he gets to look at Adachi head on, or at least the half of him that’s visible.

“I took a walk,” Yu explains, shrugging the shoulder still carrying his small bag of hot springs necessities. “I had no idea you were here. I wanted to say hi.”

Adachi blinks at him, his eyes still tight with lines and buried in a furrow, but there’s a twitch around his lips, like he’s chewing on something he can’t decide. His voice is strong when it comes out, though, definitive as he crosses his arms tight to his chest.

“Well, hi,” he deadpans, sending another glance back inside, presumably to make sure his charge is still there. He turns back to Yu with a roll of his head, hair sticking up a bit from where it presses into the frame behind him. “It’s not very exciting, because you seem to be everywhere I am all the time.”

Yu swallows past the catch in his throat and says, “Small town.”

To that, Adachi gives a humorless ghost of a laugh, some of those tight lines around his eyes loosening their slack and only imperfectly pulling them back up together when he finishes. “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence between them where Adachi kicks at the doorframe and Yu palms at the slick of sweat accumulating on underneath the collar of his yukata, but there’s too much to be lost in the quiet to let it rest, too much riding on the blurred shadow of a silhouette between them.

“You at least get to go to the hot springs, right?” Yu asks, trying to sneak into the tiny cracks in Adachi’s steeled expression with just enough play at unaffected innocent curiosity, stopping himself from leaning in closer just to see it. “I mean, if they’re going to station you here.”

“Look, kid.” Adachi’s hand twitches in its vice grip on his arm. “We’re the police, we’ve got work to do. Nothing fancy. I’m just here until her little boyfriend comes to pick her up or we hit shift change. That’s my job, and I’d love to get back to doing it.”

He doesn’t make any immediate motion to shut the door, but the thought of it alone is resting thick in the air, so Yu cuts it off with a pointed, “That doesn’t seem fair.”

Yu has to wonder if the bruise on his knee will be the only one by the time they’re done with how hard Adachi’s clinging to his own forearms and how deeply he’s letting the frame carve into his back, his nostrils flaring involuntarily.

“Nothing’s fair,” Adachi snaps, with all the dust and force of a hefty tome of text shut then flung across the room. “Go back to your friends.”

Each word feels like a lash against his skin, jolting him awake with a cold water rush and sting. Never once in all this time has Yu been scared of him, and it’s a far cry from starting now, but if Yu had really only known him for a few months, he wonders if right now he would be, with his dull, inhuman eyes flickering in and out of his normal irises every time he blinks, or if he would have even registered it. Perhaps he’d be moved by the tendon running up his neck, bared by tension, and the clenching bones of his jaw, or maybe it would be the same as now, where even in the face of all his heat, his shoulders are still slumped, the one thing his body hasn’t managed to pull to attention.

“You should come with me,” Yu offers.

He means to elaborate, some sort of platitude of how it doesn’t have to be right now before a subtle little pivot into how it really should be, you know, what does he really owe her now that he’s delivered her to safety, he has it all planned out, but he never gets a chance. With a start, Adachi moves out from in-between the screen, but not in the direction Yu anticipates. Rather than sliding back in and locking him out, Adachi tosses a hand inside towards Mayumi in acknowledgement before tearing his knee out from behind the screen and slamming it shut, stumbling Yu from where he’d been resting part of his weight against it.

Adachi rounds on him, and the space between them vanishes into nothing but a few feet. With this proximity, he feels pressed down by his intensity, but not in a way that makes him buckle. If anything, Yu cranes into it, straightening back up to face him head-on as Adachi stares up at him, trying to keep his expression blank as Adachi’s eyes flash black.

“Quick question,” Adachi begins with a click of his tongue, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. It’s a tic; Yu knows it well. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Yu doesn’t know how to answer that. “What do you mean?”

“No, something is,” Adachi presses, raising a hand like he needs something to do with it before raking it back through his hair, clutching into the side of his neck. “You’ve always been weird but something’s really been knocked loose in you lately, because this? This is insane.”

Something stirs in Yu’s chest, but whatever it is, he has to swallow through it. “It’s just an invitation.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Adachi takes a step closer before seeming to realize the distance and settling back on his heels, pulling at his tie in meaningless, frustrated tugs. “You think I don’t see you, running around morning to night seven days a week with your little friends? Do you have any idea why I’ve been walking you home at night?”

“No,” Yu breathes, because that’s a lot of questions to process, and it seems like an appropriate answer to all of them. He looks down and sees his own hands raised in reflex, so he lowers them, stretching his fingers out at his sides.

“Because you’re not slick,” Adachi spits, stray moisture collecting at the corner of his lips that he bats away, less of a wipe and more of a punch, fast and hard with his sleeve. He’s still in his suit jacket despite the warmth of the building, and when he moves his elbow, there’s a layer of sweat collecting on his undershirt. Yu can feel the dampness of his own bangs, the matching redness of their faces. “I’ve been doing it because my boss, your uncle, has been freaking out about your health and I’m tired of hearing him bitch, because I don’t know what you think you look like right now, but strung out would be polite. You look fucking manic.”

It echoes so deep in the silence of the hall that Yu finds himself looking over his shoulder just to make sure there’s no other source of sound, and then again over Adachi’s shoulder. There’s nothing, no one but them, and it’s only their breath that fills the small pocket of air between them once his words settle. There’s no way to be inconspicuous about it, so Yu just puts the pads of his fingers up to the delicate skin under his eyes, swollen and tender to the touch. Nothing in Adachi’s expression changes, but his tongue darts out again to wet his cracked lips, and Yu wonders what’s behind that, just a little.

There’s nothing he can say that resembles the truth, but unlike others in his life, that’s a dance he’s used to playing with Adachi, at least in some respects. “I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“Like what?” Adachi demands, and it’s only then he seems to really acknowledge just how close he’s drifted into Yu’s space—close enough to feel the absence of his body heat when he takes a pointed step away, looping his finger around the opening slot of the door. “Because you should probably talk to a therapist about it, not an on-duty police officer.”

Yu steadies himself, dizzy as his pulse skips a beat at the sight of the door cracking open, a formless whir of thoughts he can’t quite grasp onto long enough to parse. There’s just desperation gripping his chest. “After, then. Come with me to the springs after.”

Adachi’s hand twitches on the handle, but he stills, and Yu’s thoughts burst through the surface of his own mind in a cacophony—even if it’s too late, if he can grab him after, he can still save her, he can still show him what happens, he can, he can—but the moment breaks after a second, Adachi heaving out an exhale full of something undefinable before curling his fingers again. “Whatever.”

It’s better than nothing, and Yu hovers behind him as he swings the door open. He listens for the sound of Adachi’s footsteps inside, but they never come. When he looks up, Adachi is standing in the open doorway and surveying an empty room, the chair where Mayumi Yamano had sat just moments before now completely vacant, a small bag of her belongings still at its side.

A shiver runs up Yu’s spine, but he just grips the doorframe, taking up the space Adachi left.

He doesn’t look behind him, but Yu catches Adachi’s eyes flicker before he makes his way towards the back of the common area, where there’s another door leading to the private bedroom. Adachi knocks on the door, then again, louder, before finally sliding his eyes back to Yu in the wake of the answering silence. The glare doesn’t phase Yu at all—not like the rapidly disappearing sensation in his legs.

Adachi reaches into his pocket for one of the bulky inn keys, and each jangle of metal feels like an alarm bell in the void of the room, the quiet ambient noise of the inn reduced to nothing but the static in his ears. He gives another knock, just a single rap, before turning the key and opening the door a sliver to squeeze inside.

With Adachi out of eyesight, Yu steps past the suite threshold and slides the door shut behind him, latching it gingerly to avoid excess noise when every shift of motion crackles in the air. Nothing at all looks like it’s been touched in the time they'd been gone, but it wouldn’t make sense for it to be, either. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, and until the last bit, Adachi had one eye over the room the whole time. The lights are still off, and so is the TV, and while the sun may have gone down a few degrees through the closed blinds, Yamano’s laptop bag is still on the side table by the chairs, dust falling in the thin rays of waning sunlight above it.

The room is lifeless, like the air itself has gone still and dead with the creeping night. The shadows are unmoving even in the deepest corners of the wide, multi-room suite, and the blinds are closed shut on their wide picture windows overlooking the gardens. It’s eerily quiet, enough so that Yu is startled into a jump by a bang from the bedroom, followed by a string of expletives. He really should have expected it.

Seconds later, Adachi bursts back into the living area, eyes wide as he grips the side of his head and stomps over to where Yu lingers. Yu barely has time to take in the full sight of him before narrow fingers fist into the fabric of his shirt collar and Adachi throws Yu’s weight into the wall like it’s nothing, sucking in a breath only for it to be torn out of him with a huff.

It doesn’t hurt, but it wakes him up, the impact pulling his body to attention and lighting up his nerves all over again, the distant shock giving way to the vivid press of reality, color and light pulling back into his vision with Adachi’s pale skin and red-flushed cheekbones too close to see around. His breath ghosts across Yu’s face, angry and hot, and he can’t even begin to guess who or what combination of forces is really behind his eyes, but whatever they are, they look into Yu like they can cut right through him.

Adachi makes a move as if to drop his fist, but it’s just to readjust his grip and push harder, knuckles brushing against the hollow of his throat. Maybe Adachi was right, maybe he has lost his mind. He averts his eyes to catch his breath, blinking in the sight of the TV over his shoulder, reflecting the dimming light, and all it does is take it away again.

“Where the fuck did she go,” Adachi hisses, each individual word pushed out between his teeth. It’s the closest they’ve been in loops.

“I don’t know,” Yu breathes out, because it’s the truth. He only has a guess—an educated one, a likely one—but not a good one. Judging by the involuntary twitch between Adachi’s brows, he’s just as horrified by that truth as he is. And he doesn’t know the half of it. “There’s no other way out, is there?”

“Of course not,” Adachi snaps, like it’s an insult to his intelligence to be asked that, even as his eyes peel off from Yu to scan the perimeter. Yu grasps at the few temporary extra inches it gives him to breathe, adjusting the fall of his yukata from where it’d slid down his shoulder with a shrug. His eyes are moving too erratically for Yu to make out if they fall on the TV for more than a second, but Yu’s head might just be spinning too fast to follow. “We locked down this whole thing this afternoon. That’s the point. So tell me where she is.”

“Why would I know?” Yu repeats, shifting against Adachi’s hand. The motion seems to draw him back, his eyes trapping Yu’s once again as he shoves his knuckles against his neck—not enough to hurt, but a threat. Yu keeps his throat still, even as it grows drier by the second, and he’s certain Adachi can feel the strain of his pulse through his fingertips. “I was with you.”

Blank irises blink back at him, and Adachi presses a knee into the wall, looming over Yu just inches away like he’s going to press harder, fingers twitching like they might really grip around the length of his neck. There’s something in his bared teeth like he wants to, and deliriously, Yu wonders if he might let him. It’s not that he can’t move, it’s that he hasn’t tried to, glued where Adachi has forced him to the wall and just watching, wide-eyed and half-dissociated, unafraid even now.

He leans up into Adachi’s motion, just a hair to adjust where his fingers lay against his windpipe, but that seems to be enough to snap him out of whatever’s come over him. Adachi’s fingers fall down across the exposed skin of his chest before jerking back, bracing one hand on either side of Yu as he leans back only as far as his arms will let him, knee reluctantly falling back down.

Still, there’s no intensity lost when Adachi shakes his head hard and replies, in a low hiss, “Because this is my job, and I’d like to keep it this time around. I’m not going to let some stupid brat who isn’t half as good at playing innocent as he thinks he is sit here and ruin it.”

“I’m not trying to take that from you,” Yu argues, taking the space between them to shake his head right back, an unidentified emotion welling up in his throat now that it’s no longer constricted. “And I’m not playing at anything.”

“I’m not stupid,” Adachi says, again, punched like it’s tearing out the sutures on something, and Yu wishes he could see it in his eyes. “And I know you’ve known something, kid, so you can either cut to the chase, or I’ll have them pull the security footage on you being the only unauthorized visitor in the area.”

It feels like more of a threat than most of his threats do, but that’s not what he’s worried about. That’s not what makes the decision for him. It’s the clock on the wall, hidden in shadow but ticking even when unseen, and they’re already wasting too much time. It’s now or never.

Yu darts his gaze up, tries not to take it too personally when he sees nothing of himself reflected back in Adachi’s blown pupils when they meet, and licks his lips. “Okay.”

Adachi stirs, palms curling and loosening from their press on the wall as he blinks, color passing back through his eyes. “Wait, what?”

“I’ll show you,” Yu says, rushed after clearing his throat to make his voice ring pure, rather than bogged down with the breathless pound of anxiety. He jolts himself off from the wall, and Adachi lets him without even cosmetic resistance aside from the re-ignited force of his anger, kicking himself back off from him but refusing to drift too far, still too close for comfort. “I don’t know for sure, but I have an idea. So come on.”

Yu’s allowed to walk without another interrogation or even a hand on his wrist to stop him, but Adachi hovers in his shadow as he moves, each quick step mirrored in perfect synchronicity with his own. He glances back to read him, to look for some sort of sign, but even when it’s clear his destination is the TV, it’s the same hard lines, statuesque, right up until Yu places his hand on the edge of the screen.

“Maybe the real question is are you stupid.” Adachi’s face breaks out of his periphery, shattering into something almost soft, wide eyes and parted lips as his clenched jaw loosens slack, but it’s so quick Yu barely has time to analyze it before it’s replaced by now-familiar hardness. It’s different, though, because in the several seconds it takes him to continue, the lines of his face contort into an almost comical mask of confusion, but it’s not enough to hide what’s underneath. Even in this state, half between himself and something else, Yu knows him better than that. “I don’t have time for bullshit games.”

Well, that makes two of them. “Touch the screen.”

Even if he wasn’t close enough to watch Adachi’s pupils dilate, he can hear the sharp inhale, can practically feel the blood drain from his cheeks as if it were his own. It’s a shift of energy all around him, the fabric of Adachi’s slacks straining as his nails dig into his thigh, teeth pressed tight behind his words. “What are you talking about.”

“I want to find her as much as you do.” Yu breathes past the thick atmosphere between them, rolls his shoulders back, and waits the aching, nauseous seconds it takes for Adachi to respond and find his eyes before continuing. “And I’ll stop playing if you will.”

Keeping ahold of his gaze, Yu sinks his fingertips in past the pooling static, stretching his fingers out in an attempt to garner anything other than the constant numbness on the other side. As he does so, he watches Adachi’s face contort into no less than three distinct expressions before twisting up in frustration, letting out a single, breathless, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Yu doesn’t know how far he’s going to do this, how much ignorance he’ll feign or how much reason he’ll find to argue. Frankly, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold himself back from the call of the fog now that he’s part-way in, thoughts thrumming against his skull formless, but all pulling him like the tide towards one of the few things he’s never managed to save. All that’s between him is another, and he’s waited too long for this, waited too long only to find something out of his control, out of his expectations, yet again, and he’s done. He’s through with waiting.

He’s done, so he takes hold of Adachi’s wrist, tightens his grip around the bones despite his halting objections, and uses the momentum of the fall to plunge them both into the spiralling depths.

It doesn’t take him long to come to. In fact, he remembers the fall, forcing his eyes open to the dizzying array of light and sound that accompanies the descent, letting it wash over him right out from where he’s still holding tight to Adachi’s arm despite the vertigo. When they crash down, Yu shuts his eyes to the dust it kicks up on the floor, squeezing them tight against the sting and rubbing them with his free hand, Adachi’s form sprawling out with a thud somewhere at his side. With a groan, he pulls himself to his knees, reluctantly dropping his hand to steady himself on the ground as he does, feeling uneven hardwood and the grit of uncleanliness when he scrapes his nails down on it. Even from what he can see just now—the underside of a small white bed, a large picture window spilling sickly yellow sunlight into their eyes, the torn-up posters that adorn the walls—he knows exactly where he is.

They’ve been here before, and many times. For Yu, at least.

From his perch, he’s able to see Adachi as he raises himself up on a shaking elbow, something cracking as he rolls back his shoulder just enough to twist to Yu and groan, “Liar.”

There’s too many things those words could hang him on, so Yu just crosses his legs out in front of him and takes the moment to catch his breath. The room looks like it always does—small, greenish with the disease hanging in the air, decorated in the ripped shreds of Hiragi’s face—save for the ceiling. There’s no rope hanging from the rafters, and the only chair in the room is slid underneath the desk opposite the window, untouched.

Still, Yu offers an obligatory, “Sorry.”

“Haven’t heard any rumors about the TV, my ass,” Adachi continues as he pulls himself to sit, wiping at the crook of his mouth with a glare and bringing his knees in closer to his chest, almost as if he’s trying to create a barrier between them, for whatever it's worth. “Where the hell did you learn to do that? What is this place?”

Yu keeps his posture open and easy, letting his palms fall open across his legs. “Would you have believed me?”

Adachi grits his teeth, biting down like he’s cutting off the edge of a word just behind his lips before pushing into the ground and crawling to his feet, aggressively brushing the dirt off his suit jacket. He turns away from Yu as he does, but still looks over his shoulder to send his words back. “It doesn’t matter. I asked you point blank, and I’m asking you now.”

“It’s…” Yu drifts, rising up onto his knees before he stops and realizes he doesn’t quite know how to even word it, really. That’s always been someone else’s job. “The other side of the TV. It’s our world, but it’s not. I’ve been able to move through it ever since I got here, and I don’t know why. If there was no physical exit to the suite, this is the only one I know of.”

For a second, Adachi’s silent, marked only by the taut shift of his shoulders, before he walks over to one of the walls and presses a finger to a torn poster, peeling a corner up and then back down. Yu cranes to see his expression, but even when he rises up to stand, it’s blocked off completely in the shadows. The atmosphere of this room has always been heavy, even by the standards of this world, and it fights against the oxygen as Yu inches his way closer.

“You’ve been able to touch the TV, then?” Adachi asks, monotone and low in what Yu can only guess is an attempt to be clinical, but mostly just makes him sound like his voice is coming down a tunnel, swallowed up by the air.

“Yeah,” Yu confirms, hovering just in his periphery, careful not to get swallowed up into his blindspot completely. “Not everyone can. But there are others, I think. There has to be.”

Even if Yu’s explanations are imperfectly covered, with the way Adachi slides his eyes to him, finally, carrying a certain exhaustion Yu feels in his bones, he figures it’s enough to leave other elaborations unspoken if they both acquiesce. Yu offers nothing else, and with a nod, Adachi looks back at the poster before turning his attention to the desk, empty except for a cup of pencils and pens stored delicately on the corner.

“You’re throwing a lot of crazy shit at me, kid.” Adachi flicks the end of one of the pens with enough force to topple the whole thing over, their contents splaying out across the wood surface. Not a single one rolls off. He rights the holder, spinning it around on its edge like he can’t believe it’s corporeal, and there’s a slight tremor to it in the motion, nearly imperceptible. “What am I supposed to believe here?”

Yu circles around his other side to pick the remaining pens up, catching Adachi mid-turn to place them back inside and letting the rattle fill the air. He doesn’t know why it feels so delicate now of all times when he’s being so quiet, but everything feels pressed under the thumb of a shadow, small and softly spoken. “You can believe whatever you want.”

“And I believe you lied,” Adachi says, simply, brandishing one of the pens with a twirl of his fingers to point at Yu’s face, taking a step back into the light of the window. It’s comical, almost, both the action itself and the stark contrast from just moments before, but Yu doesn’t dare laugh. “About a hell of a lot. Shit, you’ve got an entire world up your sleeve.”

He’s looking at him like he’s poised to strike if Yu gets too close, but when he takes a step forward, Adachi doesn’t even flinch. He just continues to stare him down with his pen in hand, the light from the window poking through his fingers. “I barely know more than you, if it makes you feel any better.”

“Oh yeah?” It’s hardly a lie, all things considered, but Adachi just narrows his eyes another harsh degree, straightening his shoulders to something almost resembling their full height. “Do you barely know the whereabouts of my charge, then? Since you’re just so full of answers all of a sudden.”

Yu puts his palms up in front of his chest, low and empty in a sign of peace as Adachi takes a measured step forward, then another, in a lock onto Yu before his words draw him still. “This place is set up like Inaba, sort of.”

The echoing steps across the dusty hardwood fall quiet, Adachi stopping a few paces away in silence, so Yu swallows, and continues. “Meaning wherever she is, I doubt she’s far. So we should follow out from here.”

He straightens the arm holding his pen to point just inches from Yu’s chest, hovering in front of his upturned palms. Blinking, Yu smoothes his expression, or the best he can manage.

“And how can I be sure you don’t know where she is right now?” Adachi presses, an emotion Yu can’t identify clinging to the edges of his words, but one that takes him off-guard all the same in its contrast to the tense play at interrogator he’s been putting on, riding tight and high in his register in comparison. “How do I know you didn’t lure me here for something worse?”

“You don’t,” Yu replies, because there’s no way around that. Slowly, he lowers his hands to his sides, still open and as easy as he knows how, and he keeps his focus on Adachi soft even in the face of his harshness. “You’ll just have to trust me.”

In the echo those words leave behind in the darkened room, Yu watches the lines across Adachi’s face shift, like a crack across glacial ice the way Adachi’s eyes break and pull wide, lips fighting back down from where they seemed to part without his control. Nameless flashes of thought pull across his features, torn between choices Yu can only imagine at, but when he settles into something he quickly hides behind another practiced detective’s glare, Yu finds himself holding his breath in anticipation for its reveal, for his belief.

Instead, he’s treated to a voice of Adachi’s that doesn’t match whatever has passed in him in the least—a voice that, despite being unmistakably his, doesn’t come from his tightly-pressed lips.

“Trust you?” Adachi’s voice asks, acrid and twisted into a mocking ring that drips off every syllable. In front of him, tension winds through Adachi’s frame like a zip wire, and in the echo, they both frantically scan the room for the source. It feels like it’s all around them, sound seeping through the ceiling and walls until it turns into a pour. “Oh, Tohru, Tohru. We’re not really thinking of doing it, are we?”

For a colliding second, Yu’s muscles clench like the plunge into freezing waters, and he can’t hide a gasp as it takes him, nearly blind to the way Adachi, too, reels before his attention rests squarely on Yu. Coming up for air, though, hits just as quick, and when his body jolts back to life again, his blood is pumping fast and hot, wired-up alert to every shift of energy.

He’s already looking at the spot just over Adachi’s shoulder when the portal begins to manifest, a swirling cavern of red and black tearing through Yu’s vision of the window like it’s flat paper until it’s wide enough for one narrow black-slacked leg to push through, and then another, before it parts for Adachi’s narrow shoulders and chest like smoke and his Shadow floats to the floor, a mirror image in glowing yellow eyes just behind the original.

Only the sickly sound of the portal closing seems to pull the real Adachi out of his focus on Yu enough to turn around and finally look to where Yu’s staring, and whatever passes over his face, it drains the color from his neck.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I almost catch you slipping?” The Shadow sneers, its palms opening to shrug out wide as the portal closes behind it, leaving its transferred energy to fill the room with pulsating waves of atmosphere, drawing the space into an even heavier fog. The sound of the Shadow’s voice again seems to shake Adachi entirely, and he draws back to Yu’s side to put distance between him and where his double looms, a twisted up grin on its face as it surveys the scene. “I thought we’d learned better than that, come on now. Then again, doing the same stupid shit over and over is what you do best.”

Like all Shadows, it’s so much like its owner and yet sports enough unearthly distinctions to make the side-by-side comparison uncanny, but something about this particular lineup is nauseating, Yu struggling to look at them both head-on without something deep and unsettling gripping in his chest. It’s the same body, same face, same hair, same clothes, same affectations, but every harsh line on Adachi’s body seems subtly accentuated just enough to look wrong without being able to trace it, every expression it makes contorted the extra degree into unreality, especially when the original seems to find his voice again.

“This isn’t fucking funny,” Adachi, the real one, spits, and from where he’s looking Yu’s not sure which one of them he’s addressing, but it hardly matters. “You hear me? It’s not.”

“Really?” The Shadow drawls as it walks on ghost-smooth steps across the room to perch on the bed, leaning back to cross its knees and imploring with a wide-arched brow. “I think it’s very funny. Hilarious, in fact. I mean, what else were you gonna do? Babysit some cheating broad? Cut the bullshit, man. Who cares if we can’t find her?”

At his side, even from a few paces away out of the corner of his eye, Adachi’s knees buckle, and on reflex, Yu draws in closer, ready to catch him if he stumbles. He doesn’t, but Adachi stays slouched, gripping hard at the side of his head with one hand and his tie with the other, hissing low. “Shut up.”

“She’s better off dead,” the Shadow continues, swinging its ankle in the air with a little twirl, leaning back on its palms across the mattress to stare up at the ceiling, smirking with all the restraint and poise of a jack-o-lantern roughly carved. “Just like the rest of this good for nothing town. Justice? Trust? Don’t give me that crap. What’s that ever done for us? I’d burn it all to the ground, myself. Beats being bored.”

Adachi’s hand twitches, and for a second, Yu’s convinced he’ll reach for his gun, but he looks between them just once and seems to think the better of it, clenching his fists into a stilted, “That’s not…”

“That’s not it,” the Shadow cuts him off with a hand held up before flicking out his index finger in a lazy circle, tracing the shape of his original’s face with a wide, curling smile. “Is what you were going to say, right? Sorry, I can’t help but finish your sentences, we’re just so alike. I guess I didn’t want to hear your fake-ass reasoning, because obviously, we both know that’s not really it, you’re just too chickenshit not to lie about why.”

“Alike?” Adachi repeats, like he’s stuck on the word, pale and horrified, and Yu fights every urge in his body to step in front of him, because he knows it won’t help. He knows better.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got ya covered,” the Shadow sings, leaning forward on its knees and tucking its chin in its palm, the other continuing to trace lazy patterns in the air across Adachi’s body. “We don’t want to burn it all, now do we? We talk a big game like the world’s just shit, but look at how laughably little it takes to get you so worked up and desperate. You don’t have the balls to, not when you’ve gone and gotten yourself addicted to imaginary false hope yet again, because you just never learn.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adachi lunges again like he wants to speak, but the Shadow is faster, pressing his hand flat again and accompanying it with another shift of energy that seems to hold him still long enough for it to continue, grin splitting across his face from jaw to uneven jaw. “I think you like it. Only masochists convince themselves anyone might be stupid enough to care. How pathetic.”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Adachi breaks, surging forward with the force behind his words, and before Yu can think about it, he’s got a hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. Just as quickly as he feels the heat beneath his fingers, Adachi shakes him off with a rough jerk, pulling up straighter despite the hand still clenched to his head. “What right do you have to wear my face and act like you know me?”

The Shadow clicks its tongue, rolling its head back down to stare at its original directly, cruelly-cut boredom slicing through the room like a knife straight to where they stand, open amusement curling into something much more contained, much more sinister. “We’ve never been a good liar, you know.”

Yu wants to tell him to stop, wants to find a way to break the mounting tension and pull it apart before it escalates even further, before it gets to where it will inevitably go, but even if it would do any good, he’s frozen in place. His tongue and lips feel locked, and he’s been statuesque in the position where Adachi shook him off, half-hovering and half-ready to draw up at any moment, heart pounding in his ears.

“How do you know?” Adachi demands again, and Yu knows this part, can tell by the tight construction in his throat and the red claw marks on the side of his temple that this can’t be sustained much longer. He’s at his breaking point, and all Yu can do is watch, each second dragging as the room fills with smoke. “You’re not me.”

To that, the Shadow just grins and raps its fingers on its knees before rising to its feet, tendrils and fog and the echoes of something monstrous shadow-playing out from the walls and onto the floorboards, covering it slow like the rising curtain on a one-man stage, and Yu feels electricity rising in his fingertips. It’s sharp, like metal, like ozone, and his Shadow gets in its last words before the sound is replaced entirely with the ringing in Yu’s ears.

“Not a good liar at all.”

The anachronism of meeting his Shadow here and now is strong enough to give Yu pause.

From the moment it begins to melt and shift into its form, it’s clear that this manifestation is stronger than the rest of this world has grown so far, drawing its shadow high up over the walls and shrinking the room with its presence. A single arm crawls out from the dissipating mist first, thin and angular with unnatural bends, followed by a large, flat head tilted to the right side. It’s the shape of a harlequin, lifeless save for piercing yellow pupils at the center of its slit black eyes. Before the fog clears in its entirety, the creature swings its weight forward and three more sets of arms push through, and along with them, the silhouette of three more heads upon its ruffled-collar neck. Each fans out in sharp, distorted directions from the other, a different style of caricatured jester’s mask painted across their faces and swaying back and forth as each set of eyes stare them down, unblinking from high above.

When the room clears, it wastes no time in targeting both of them, even with Adachi’s prone position behind Yu’s readied stance, a set of arms reaching out to twist one of its heads upright and lash forward. Before Yu can even move to protect him, Magatsu-Izanagi flickers to life, barely visible, to shield Adachi’s body from the onslaught—confirming something Yu’s long suspected and drawing him up short. The act of manifesting it, though, seems involuntary and painful, buckling Adachi’s knees each time it appears above him and leaving him clutching his head in his hands, strained enough that Yu wonders if there’s any real benefit to its protection at all.

Nor does he seem to know how to wield it, because when it comes time to go on the offensive, something short-circuits, and he falls to his knees with shaking hands on his temples. Magatsu seems to almost glitch and falter in and out behind him until another passing hit from his Shadow knocks him out cold, and Yu really does have to do this alone.

It can’t take as long as it feels, but it feels like an eternity, hyper-aware of the slumped body by his feet and the rapidly dwindling time with each pass between them. The Shadow, even as its heads begin to wound and rot off its neck, is resilient until the end, managing to spit out a final parting jab before one last stroke of Yu’s blade turns it to dust in a pile on the floor. Echoes of pointless fill the room in the waning seconds after it disappears, before everything falls quiet once again and the Shadow’s human form remains in its wake, hovering silent over its original’s crumpled body.

When it’s over, truly over, Yu collapses onto his sword and catches his breath, heaving in a few precious gulps of air before letting himself lower all the way down to the floor where Adachi’s body still lays, splayed out and limp. Gently, Yu inches forward on his knees, surveying the pained expression across his closed eyes and the odd way his limbs have fallen askew, some dirt off the floor streaked across the side of his face.

“Adachi,” Yu says, hovering over his body. He waits ticking seconds for an answer, or just some sign of life, but he doesn’t stir in the least, so Yu scoots forward closer and says again, louder, “Adachi.”

There’s a soft movement across his brow, but it’s so slight Yu might have misread it, and either way, it falls still again, so with one last unanswered try of his name, Yu gingerly places a hand on his shoulder and shakes, wiping cooled sweat off his forehead with the other.

It takes a few tries, but eventually, Adachi’s eyes pinch and blink open, dazed and glassy as he surveys the ceiling until he finds Yu’s face with a groan, and then his hand. Like the flip of a switch, he jolts, scrambling up onto his palms to wrench away and put distance between them until he’s pressed up against the bed, even as Yu holds up his hands in surrender.

“Don’t touch me,” Adachi hisses, holding a glare down hard despite the way his face twitches through the pain of it, eyes flashing. “Get away.”

Yu rolls back on his heels, even as every instinct he has tells him to tend to the gash on the side of his neck, the shell-shocked look in his eyes. Still, he keeps his hands raised, asks as calm as he knows how, “Okay, are you alright?”

“Fine,” Adachi spits on the floor, tinged with a subtle pink, but using the bed he’s able to pull himself to his feet with only minor shaking. Yu does the same, ignoring the groan in his own legs. “I’m fucking fine. I don't need your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Yu argues before he can stop himself with the idea that contradicting it might be useless, especially with how tightly his fists are balled at his sides. “That’s part of you, it’s okay.”

“You think you need to tell me that?” Adachi tears his face away from Yu towards the Shadow pressed in the corner, but instead of the continued anger he expects to read across his face, his expression folds into a sneer, only sharpening back up when he turns back to Yu. “I already know I’m pathetic, none of that shit is new to me.”

Yu steals a glance back just to escape the heat of his staring, but no matter how long he searches into the space where the Shadow just stood, there’s nothing there. Adachi just laughs, cold and hollow like he’s trying to make it sting. “You got your free little freak show, so move on.”

The shadows across his face fall deep, but his entire body’s twisted up so tightly on itself Yu wonders if he can even breathe, and with a cautious step closer, he can’t help but try again, because he knows this part all too well. He’s seen it in others a thousand times, and here is no different, but the pull to smooth it out of his features is stronger with its newness than Yu is fully prepared for.

“It’s normal, you know,” Yu assures despite the flash of Adachi’s teeth snarled behind his lips, an uncertain ocean of black swirling in his irises again. “I’ve… It's nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t think any differently of you.”

“Oh? And you know from personal experience?” Adachi fires back, staggering into the bed frame before remembering the limitation and side-stepping back towards the door instead. The depths of his eyes are flat, lifeless, even as the muscles around them contort, and the contrast is unsettling. His silence is answer enough, so Adachi continues, “Yeah, very funny, kid. I don’t wanna hear it from you.”

Despite the lump in his throat, despite the rapidly mounting aura of unreality gathering over Adachi’s frame, Yu crosses some of the space he’s created, trying to ignore the way Adachi flinches and presses up against the wall, fists clenched. “I get it, I do, but it’s okay. It’s just another piece of how this world works.”

Yu barely reaches for him, doesn’t even know that’s what he’s doing when he sees his own hand lift out into the air. Before he can contemplate that, Adachi smacks his hand with a surprisingly sharp motion, the back of his palm stinging even when long fingers grip his wrist tight, squeezing with a strength that can’t possibly belong to him. He shoves him back hard, like he’s been burned.

“I said, don’t fucking touch me,” Adachi snaps, his voice crackling and edged with static, booming over the room to fill it like a loud-speaker. His nails left red marks on Yu’s wrist, one just deep enough to bleed, and with a shake, he pulls it back into his chest, a single drop of blood slipping between his fingers and onto the floor. Adachi’s eyes follow, flickering back and forth like the changing of channels and pulling his expression in incomprehensible shifts along with it. “Whatever. We need to find her. It doesn’t matter.”

He’s right, Yu knows he’s right, but looking at the hollowed frenzy of Adachi’s eyes and the way the wall’s still holding up most of his body weight, he can tell there’s something dangerous brewing behind his clenched teeth, something pulling up his muscles straighter than he ever holds them. It’s starting to look wrong, but more than that, it feels wrong, an acidic tension in the air that Yu could recognize in his sleep. “I think we should rest.”

“What?” Adachi rounds on him, his leg shaking in an effort not to buckle as he brings himself over to Yu, pushing him a step backwards with a hand to his chest that staggers him in turn, even as he tries to hide the fall. It’s hardly a threat, even if there’s a sharp strength at the center just barely edged out by his body’s exhaustion. “So you can continue hiding her from me? So you don’t have to see me anymore?”

“Neither,” Yu answers, hastily, because again, it’s the truth. The whole truth, at that. “Because I know that takes a lot out of you, and it’s not safe to go any farther with both of us worn down like this.”

The last part isn’t entirely honest—Yu could protect the both of them just fine with one hand behind his back—but it’s the principle of the thing. He’s seen this go down enough times to know the extreme physical toll. In terms of safety, that thing is wrestling Adachi for control here, and it poses enough of a risk with its mounting presence, with the anger and spite it draws across Adachi’s crumpled face, that there’s no other option.

They’ve lost two weeks, after all. The rain won’t come for a while, but the hatred in Adachi’s eyes is coming now. Yu stands firm in it, even as Adachi says, some of the venom draining, “The hell do you know?”

Yu just smiles, tight-lipped and gentle. “Enough. Like where the exit is.”

“Fine.” Behind his closed eyes, Adachi blinks over a battle Yu isn’t privy to save for the white-knuckle grip he has on his own elbows, raw with fury whenever his eyes twitch open to land on him, but in several, aching seconds, Adachi draws his nails down his sleeve slow, and mutters, “Fine. I’m sick of this shit.”

Neither of them move, and Yu doesn’t even register it’s his own lead for a second, too busy surveying the mess of Adachi’s body, his face. Yu’s gripped once again by both the necessity and the futility of trying to find the right words to say. With a step forward, he shakes his head, reaching for the door.

“I don’t think you’re pathetic,” Yu whispers, his hand over the doorknob. He doesn’t know if Adachi hears him, doesn’t know if he even wants him to, so he just opens the door and says to the fog instead, “I don’t know if it means anything.”

From over his shoulder, Adachi just makes a noise in the back of his throat, disbelieving and disregarding, but it’s the most him he’s sounded in a while, and here, it’s a comfort Yu will hold onto.

Chapter Text

Red from the stoplight—one of the few in town—splays across the dash, clashing with the radio where it glows out the time from the pale green 90s clock, and dances across the tips of Adachi’s fingers tapping across the steering wheel. There are indents in the leather, like he’s been at that meandering rhythm for years. More than anything, Yu is just distantly surprised he stopped for the light at all. There’s no traffic in either direction, not with the numbers blinking out a quarter past eleven and the sun long past set in the valley.

Adachi keeps his hands perfectly on the two and ten when he drives, like any further infraction tonight will prove his undoing. He killed the radio the second it cut to commercial, so it’s been silent since they pulled out of the Inn parking lot, save for the dull, somewhat concerning hum of the car’s engine. It’s a dated model, and it shows its wear in the fraying leather of the seats, but for its age, Adachi’s personal car seems to be well taken care of. The interior is clean and free of garbage or suspicious stains, which is more than Dojima’s can claim.

There was a period of time in the night Adachi technically could have used to clean up his belongings, but he had more pressing matters to attend to than that surely, and even though the size of the town has kept Yu out of Adachi’s own vehicle until now, he’s fairly certain this might just be how it looks. His displays of apathy in his surroundings have always been in minimalism, not in carelessness.

To his surprise, it’s Adachi that breaches the silence before Yu can quite work out what to say, voice crackling like it’s just been turned on after hours of disuse even though they spoke just moments before on the walk to the car. It’s one of the longest lights in town, and they’re going against the primary flow of traffic; it only takes a few seconds for him to break and ask, “So, how did Nanako take it?”

Yu winces. He leans up against the handle with his elbow to stare out the window at the side of a darkened farm road, and hides part of his face with his palm as he replies, “I hate disappointing her.”

“Her old man must do it enough.” Adachi snorts out a half-hearted puff of air, like it’s funny but it’s not at all, voice airy and artificially sweet. It churns in Yu’s gut, dinner long gone from his stomach. “Hey, I at least gave you some time.”

There was about an hour and a half where Yu didn’t have eyes on him, and while earlier in the day, the thought of an Adachi unattended for any period would have made his skin crawl, now, he hardly has the energy to waste on being concerned about it. Whatever took place, Yu certainly doubts it was anything of note, judging by what they went through before the police department was satisfied enough with their lack of involvement for Yu to bow out, provided he remained on the grounds until they wrapped up the scene.

“Yeah,” Yu agrees, because it’s a privilege he doubts he would have gotten without a combined effort, and he doesn’t quite know what he would have done without it. By the time they got back, it had been almost a half hour in the real world, and it took another hour for Yu to walk free, a fact which only soured the already rotten process of having to break the news to Nanako that he couldn’t stay the night after all. Nothing hits in a loop quite like breaking her heart for the first time, but Yu getting to spend the next two hours in the hot springs, during which Adachi attempted to pry himself from Dojima’s clutches, seemed to at least soften the blow. That, and the knowledge he’s left her in good hands, judging by the ferocity in his friends’ eyes when he packed up and left. “Thanks for that.”

Like the flip of a switch, the glow across Adachi’s face shifts from bright red to soft green, and it halos the sharp lines of his profile for several seconds before he reacts, taking his foot off the brake and rolling the car forward.

“Oh, anytime.” Adachi lifts his shoulders and rolls them back down carelessly, singing his words into a half-heartedly concealed sigh. As they pass underneath streetlights, tendons in his wrists are visible from where he’s gripping the steering wheel tight. “Taking lashings from Dojima is what I do, I’m a professional.”

Adachi was reluctant to call Dojima precisely because of the exact events that transpired, and as usual, Yu can’t exactly blame him. When they thankfully made their way out of the TV—Yu wasn’t lying about knowing where the exit was, but it was a stroke of luck that the TV in a neighboring room lead back to the Inn—he allowed Adachi the luxury of collapsing in one of the chairs and holding his head in his hands for long, necessary minutes. When Adachi finally blinked his eyes back open and locked on to Yu’s watchful gaze, they met in silent, regretful acknowledgment of what would have to happen next, and it was clear neither of them was eager to take the plunge. Lucky for Yu, and unlucky for Adachi, it’s up to only one of them to ultimately get it done.

When Adachi called in the missing persons report, his shoulders shook, and Yu tried not to notice. Wherever he looked, though, Adachi’s ceaseless movement always brought his focus back to him, and with it, the wish Yu could smooth it out in some way. There was nothing to do but stand and wait until Adachi was done muttering on the phone, and when he hung up, all they really knew how to do was stare at each other, too exhausted to know what to say.

Here, though, on the road back home, Yu finds his thoughts whirring to life again, some of the energy returning to his bones, even if all it does is make him acutely aware of how heavy he feels. “Don’t worry, I’ll be getting one from him, too.”

Even after thorough examination of security footage, multiple rounds of questioning, and a quick forensic sweep of the room confirmed there was no way within the natural laws of this world that Yu Narukami and Tohru Adachi could have been in any way responsible for Mayumi Yamano’s actual disappearance, to describe Dojima’s disposition towards the two of them as anything less than livid would be an understatement. Even clearly trying to restrain himself, every reluctant word spoken to either of them spat out between his teeth, Yu shudders at the thought of what awaits him tomorrow morning, and he has no doubts Adachi has and will continue to get the worst of it. It doesn’t help that Adachi’s air conditioner is on full blast.

“Yeah, well.” Adachi shrugs as he takes a right turn down the street towards the Dojimas’ with no signal, yawning wide without bringing up a hand to mask it. Yu at least has the manners to hide his own behind his elbow, the motion wracking his body. He leans his head against the window before he can think to stop himself, and the cool press of glass against his cheek startles him back up. In the reflection, Adachi’s gaze flickers over to him for what feels like the first time all drive. “That’s what you get for coercing an officer to abandon his station.”

Yu would remind him that he is the officer who abandoned his station, coercion or no, but Adachi turns his nose up and peers down at him sharp, like he’s daring him to say what’s on the tip of his tongue, so Yu just lets a smile pass over his lips before leaning against his propped up elbow. He watches increasingly familiar houses begin to pass by. “Suppose so.”

It was a whole discussion, as most things always are between his friends, on whether or not to call the whole thing off now that Yu has not only stumbled into a missing persons case, but is undoubtedly under de facto house arrest for his pseudo-involvement in it. It took some convincing, but eventually, Yu managed to talk them into staying, if only for Nanako’s sake. He promised her a weekend vacation, and as long as he has the resources to see to it and she isn’t alone, it only seems fair that the rest of them, innocent in this as they are, get to stay and reap the benefits.

As for Adachi, he lets the conversation fall as they take the last few turns, biting back another yawn as he maneuvers down the narrow alley that leads to home. They pull up out front of the Dojima house, and Adachi slides the gear shift into park but doesn’t turn off the engine, hovering with his hand over the keys and a furrow between his brows before he pivots his knees towards Yu. He crosses them and says, decisively, “We need to go back.”

There’s a tingle on Yu’s lips, like words he didn’t even know were forming behind his tongue have been stolen out from under him and spoken aloud in another voice. The uncanniness startles him. “What?”

“I said,” Adachi drawls, rolling into the words as he leans an elbow on the crook of the steering wheel, pressing the side of his face into his knuckles. “We need to go back.”

“No, I… I just didn’t know if you’d want to.”

When Adachi laughs this time, it sounds almost authentic, if not tinged deep with exhaustion and more than a little bit of sourness, high in his throat, but Yu still soaks up the sound. “Are you kidding?”

It doesn’t sound rhetorical, but there’s only silence that follows. Adachi is looking at him like he’s trying to read something across Yu’s face, so he swallows and says, “No, I’m not. I’d understand if you never wanted to go back.”

At that, Adachi just scoffs, “Not a chance,” and cuts the engine. Yu sighs into the newfound warmth as the cold air dissipates and the lights in the car go dark, leaving only the half-burned out streetlight up above to illuminate their faces. He watches as Adachi twirls the keys around his finger, and makes no move to reach for the door.

Without the ambient noise of the car and passing streets, it’s like a blanket of quiet, folded over the little patch of street they inhabit and making Adachi’s voice ring out loud and gaudy in the space. “You have no way of knowing just how boring the adult world is, I get it. But it’s real cute you think I’d turn down the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in years just because you heard a few lame secrets.”

He’s trying to keep the levity in his voice, judging by the pinched strain in the back of his throat, but Yu doesn’t have the energy to act like he’s fooled by it. Even though Adachi’s expression falters as he turns towards the windshield and puts a hand over his mouth, he doesn’t seem like he quite has the energy to act bothered by that, either. To be fair, Yu was arguing more at the angle of the danger of it all, but he doesn’t dare correct him.

“I think we need to go back, too,” Yu offers, rubbing at his eyes, which fall against his wishes with fatigue. It’s been a while since that world has taken it out of him this deeply. “So I’m glad to hear we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah,” Adachi shrugs, and for the first time since they’ve come to a stop, his eyes drop to the bag at Yu’s feet, tucked between his legs. Yu reaches down for the strap, but he’s halted by a low clearing of Adachi’s throat. “I think we should go tomorrow.”

Yu doesn’t look up to see his expression, but he thinks he can feel it, and he’s worried it would change if he caught Yu staring. It feels a little uneasy, furrowed but focused, and the way Yu imagines it is more endearing than whatever mask of forced nonchalance will await him when he pulls back up.

Selfishly, he chooses to savor it, glancing at him through the side mirror as he straightens and opens the door, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. “I agree.”

He doesn’t look back until he reaches the house, and when he does, he somehow finds Adachi looking at him with the same expression he imagined, only with wider eyes. They’re darkened with the shadows of an impossibly long night but unmistakably wild and bright, and this is the sight he wants to leave with. He steals as many seconds as he feels like he can, watching Adachi watch him from the distance between the street and the door, but eventually, they both seem to break at once, and Yu unlocks the door, letting the solitude and silence of a lightless house wash over him.

Dojima reads him the riot act and then some, but he expected nothing less. He takes him down to the station for it and everything, summoning him with a phone call bright and early at nine in the morning with the threat of the old testament in his voice, and not even twenty loops later is Yu bold enough to defy that.

He stumbles into one of the fastest showers of his life, dresses in the first respectable outfit he can find, and takes the road to the station as fast as he feels comfortable with, held back only by the anxiety of just how little he wants to do this. No matter how many variations of the conversation he plays through in his head, none of them feel particularly comforting nor easy to explain, and if there’s anything he knows, that’s a recipe for disaster as far as his uncle is concerned.

When he gets to the station, Dojima is down to greet him before the front desk can even reach for the phone, dragging him back to follow into the depths of the building with a single finger. He knows the familiar trek to the interrogation rooms like the back of his hand by this point, and he takes the march down behind him like a walk of shame, staring at the uneven, scuffed-up tile beneath his feet rather than Dojima’s tense shoulders.

When they reach the row of interrogation rooms, Adachi is standing outside of one of them with two cups of coffee, holding one out at his side while blowing at the other delicately, glancing up at them upon their approach. Dojima takes the spare coffee with so much force that some of the black liquid splashes across the tile before putting it to his lips without cooling it, and he doesn’t flinch on the way down.

“I’ll call you in if I need you,” he hisses at Adachi as he flings open the door, holding it with his foot as he crosses his arms to stare his junior partner down. Adachi curls back slightly under the intensity of his focus.

“Aye, Captain,” Adachi mutters with a mock salute, eyes floating just briefly to Yu. Dojima slams the door shut behind them.

Yu finds his way to the chair before even looking up to see Dojima pointing at it wordlessly. He slinks into his seat and folds his hands out on the table, innocent as he can seem and straight-backed.

Before Dojima can even speak, Yu says, “I’m sorry.”

He has more planned beyond that, but Dojima just raises a hand, silent and firm, and shakes his head. Yu falls back into his seat from where he’d leaned forward and nods, pressing his lips together.

“I have one question,” Dojima begins, and if that’s his restrained tone, pulled low and gritted out between his teeth, Yu has no desire to become acquainted with the unrestrained version. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Yu lets his shoulders round into a sigh before he can catch himself, and it takes about everything in his body to pull back up again rather than fall forward into the table. Instead, he draws back with a press of his forearms and replies, “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t.”

“I’d hope to God you weren’t,” Dojima retorts, seeming to barely stop himself from slamming his hand hard onto the table by catching it and pulling it back to his pocket, reaching for a cigarette. Smoking isn’t technically allowed in the station, but that’s never seemed to stop him, at least in the more private areas. “Otherwise you’d have a real hard time explaining why in the world you’d drag an active duty officer away from a high-risk charge seemingly for no reason.”

“I didn’t…” Yu begins, before realizing that pleading ignorance is close enough to a bold lie he’d surely be caught out. He’s already growing stiff and painful in the chair. His body still hasn’t recovered from the night before, not completely, and distantly, he envies the beginning loops when it took less of an obvious toll on him, his body younger and less battered by its trials. “I didn’t realize it was that serious. I was stupid. I was just surprised to see him there and wanted to talk, but I let it get out of hand.”

Dojima leans back and lights the end of the cigarette, rolling up his sleeves and taking a long, even inhale before he lets it out with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose hard between his forefinger and thumb. He squints his eyes shut for just a moment, and when he blinks them open, his demeanor has softened a few degrees, anger giving way to exhaustion as he searches Yu up and down. He indulges in another drag before he speaks, and when he does, his voice is lower in his chest.

“Look, kid,” Dojima sighs. The use of the diminutive has never been exclusive to Adachi, but hearing it like that gives Yu a bit of whiplash, suddenly aware of the other detective’s presence just beyond the heavy door. “I get that making friends is hard. I’m glad you’re finding people to connect with. It’s the officer’s job not to abandon his post, and believe me, I’m ten times angrier at him than I am with you, because he should know better not to cross boundaries with civilians. But, Yu, you gotta be aware of those, too.”

Right. Professional boundaries. If anything’s consistent about the two of them, it’s that they’ve never exactly been good at those. Still, Yu nods, and says, “I know.”

“I took a chance on you,” Dojima sighs, rubbing at his temples. He takes another drag, but the fight seems to have drained out of him faster than Yu anticipated at the sight of whatever’s written on his face, crossing his legs and shaking his head. Whether it’s in disappointment or disbelief, Yu understands the sentiment. “Don’t make me regret it.”

These days, Yu feels the same way about himself.

Adachi picks him up at his house after his shift—Nanako is still at the Inn and Dojima is stuck at the station until late in the evening, leaving Yu free reign. He pulls his car up to the street and Yu slides right in, two small wrapped box lunches in hand. He hadn’t known what else to do with his time post-Dojima.

“What’s this?” Adachi asks as Yu holds out one for him to take, which he does with a curled-up nose, holding it by the knot and peering at it as it spins.

For demonstration, Yu pops the lid on his own to reveal a simple array of rice balls and fried marinated tofu, pulling the chopsticks from the lid and placing one piece of tofu in his mouth before shutting it all back up again. “Lunch. It’ll make this easier, promise.”

As if it might explode, Adachi gingerly places the box as far away from him as possible on the dash and says, drawn-out, “Later.”

“Of course,” Yu smiles, taking both boxes and sliding them back into his bag for safe keeping as Adachi pulls the car into drive and off of Dojima’s street.

Living in Tokyo, his parents had a car, but Yu himself rarely found himself in it, relegated to public transit to shuttle around. The novelty of Adachi owning one—one of the few things about him that feels distinctly adult—makes the whole thing feel illicit and exciting, even through his nerves. He feels like a stowaway, an accomplice, air conditioner blowing breeze through his hair as the streets pass by and he scans every car with a bump of his heart for a familiar face, low-grade adrenaline addled. Adachi’s jaw is as tense as ever, but he wonders if the light in his eyes reflects something excited too, even if just a little.

“So, who got the worse beating?” Adachi asks after they pull out onto one of the main roads, thankfully with the use of his turn signal this time.

“You did,” Yu replies immediately, because he wasn’t there, but it doesn’t take a genius to infer it. “He was just… disappointed.”

Another car pulls out in front of them, and Adachi’s forced to slow down to the exact speed limit, visible frustration pooling on his features. Yu hides a twitch of his lips behind his hand as Adachi scoffs and says, “You sure that’s not worse?”

Yu just shrugs, because he’s not, not really, but he’s certain Adachi’s included a lot of yelling, and he’s still of the opinion that Dojima raises his voice too much to him. He’s always wanted to confront him about that—has, a few times—but Yu doubts it will go over well now for him, after what’s transpired.

After it becomes clear from the silence Adachi is in fact expecting an answer, Yu pushes a stray bit of hair out of his face and says, “It could have been worse.”

“Well, yeah,” Adachi replies, rolling his eyes just as the Inn starts to become visible in the distance. He must have asked twice under his breath at the station as they planned this if they had to go back there first, and while the answer is technically no, for their purposes here, it has to be yes. “Shit—I mean, things—can always be worse.”

“Did he tell you to swear less around me?” Yu looks at him sidelong, and Adachi’s focus doesn’t waver to him, but he swears he sees the slightest hint of red lighting up his prominent cheekbones. “Because he doesn’t even follow his own rules.”

“Yeah, well,” Adachi drawls again, an entirely different, much slower cadence to his tone as he pulls into the Inn’s long driveway. Yu sinks into his seat unconsciously before he even realizes what he’s doing. When he catches himself, he stays down low, peering out over the dash like every window contains a pair of watching eyes waiting to call his bluff. It’s the mid-afternoon, though, and most of the patrons—including his friends, most likely—are out on the town, but that does little to abate his worries. “I don’t want you telling him I didn’t try.”

Yu gives him about twenty minutes to drop that particular act, but he’ll keep that to himself. Rather than taking the main driveway in, Adachi pulls off to a smaller dirt path that follows the access road around the back of the Inn, closer to where the entrance to the master suites is. Adachi parks near the back of the small makeshift lot, occupied only by a few sparse other cars, and after he kills the engine, he’s all business when he turns to Yu, snapping his fingers to grab his attention as if it had drifted for even a moment.

“I have police clearance to be here,” Adachi reminds him. “You don’t. So follow a few minutes behind, and act natural.”

Before he can stop himself, Yu does a mock salute and echoes, “Aye, captain.”

Adachi narrows his eyes, but otherwise declines to dignify that with a response, and that’s just as well.

Yu thinks his heart might push its way out of his chest by the time he actually makes his way to the suite a few minutes later after locking up Adachi’s car, but he arrives without incident. No one is even at the front desk when he enters, and he takes the hallways down to the suites without running into another patron at all. It’s by the design of the Inn, but it still feels like a minor miracle when he ducks underneath the caution tape and slides open the door to Mayumi Yamano’s suite to find Adachi standing inside, pacing around near the TV with his arms crossed.

He looks up when Yu enters, but he waits until Yu locks the door behind him to speak up. When he does, his voice is lower than expected, asking, “Can I have that box?”

Something stirs in Yu’s chest that has him struggling to speak around it. “Sure.”

He procures the untouched box out from his backpack and hands it to Adachi, who seems no less convinced of its potential explosive qualities but nonetheless pulls the tie loose and slides the lid underneath the container, poking at a rice ball experimentally with his pair of chopsticks. Yu’s not particularly hungry, but he knows he hasn’t eaten enough either, so he pulls out his own box to set a good example, placing one of the rice balls between his lips.

Yu has the urge to sit down, if only to be civilized, but Adachi seems content to stand, taking small, furtive bites one after another before tackling several pieces of tofu the same way. At the very least, Yu leans against the wall to eat his share, using the next few minutes of companionable quiet to finish about half until his nerves won’t allow anymore. Adachi seems to be about in the same boat, so Yu seals his own up before reaching for Adachi’s and placing both back in the bag. At least he’s forced the both of them to eat something before the TV turns them upside down again.

Yu sighs, readjusts his bag, and asks, “Ready?”

Adachi just rolls his eyes, slicking a hand back through his hair. “As I’ll ever be.”

They don’t end up where Yu thinks they will. Not even close.

When they come to after the fall, even just from where Yu’s sprawled out across the floor, it’s obvious that something is very much off. Rather than the dusty, twilight-lit hardwood floor of Mayumi Yamano’s Inaba apartment, his cheek is pressed against impossibly smooth vinyl tile, and for a disorienting moment, he’s convinced they’ve somehow fallen into the Junes portal studio. It only takes seconds for this idea to dissipate as fast as it came, though, because he feels none of the typical peeling paint or cracks in the tile squares. Even as he pushes himself up on his hands, everything he touches is smooth and shiny, reflecting his own torn face back at him before he finally manages to lift his head and look up.

It’s an empty, high-rafted white room, with large studio lights strung up from the rafters pointing down to illuminate them from every odd angle. Rows of cameras line the wall across from where they lie, red ‘recording’ signals flashing, and the lights blind him when he looks too long. Besides the wide, open space where they’ve found themselves, every other corner of what looks to be a TV news studio is filled with televisions—some turned off, some stuck on the color test screen, some just static, some oscillating rapidly between channels—but all pointing towards the center of the room where the main spotlight leads, casting no shadow. Yu pulls himself to his feet, Adachi short to follow.

“You said this was the only way back to that room,” Adachi hisses, like Yu needs the reminder. He winces and pulls his neck from side to side, cracking it with an audible snap that makes Yu’s spine tingle. “Or are we really just going back to the lies, now?”

“No,” Yu argues before he can think to put his words into something more eloquent, spinning to face him after he manages to tear his eyes away from the rows of televisions. He searches Adachi’s pupils for something foreign, but they look just as they did in the car. “I’ve never had this happen before. They’re only supposed to have one fixed endpoint.”

Their words reverberate in the space for long after they’re spoken, floating eerily up through the rafters and bouncing around the empty, isolated space. There’s only darkness beyond where the tile ends, and even for the TV world, it feels heavy with the dampness of fog despite the bright, clear lights. Cold runs up through Yu’s fingertips and settles into his chest as Adachi stares at him, face pinched up like he’s trying to read a series of words he doesn’t understand, and Yu doesn’t know what expression to wear when he’s just as lost himself. Over his shoulder, the TVs flicker.

“You sound like you do this a lot,” Adachi mutters, not like he’s realizing something for the first time, but rather like he’s sliding pieces he was already lining up beforehand into place. Yu swallows past the lump in his throat, trying to keep steady on his feet despite the implication of that. “Why might that be?”

There’s a shift in the atmosphere, and when Yu pivots back over to his right, there’s a desk near the back of the studio floor that he could swear wasn’t there before, some of the spotlights now shifted to train on its shiny oak surface where a single name placard reading ‘M. Yamano’ is placed in the center. Out of the corner of his eye, Adachi’s gaze slowly moves to where Yu’s has fallen before they both turn to look at each other, his eyes wide.

No part of Yu really wants to, but like most things in life, especially when it comes to this world, one look at Adachi tells that the onus is on him. He takes a step forward, and then another, his footfalls loud in the studio as he crosses the room to examine the desk, solid and as real as anything when he places a hand to it, running his finger along the edge of the placard. There’s a chair behind the desk, professional with matching details, but it’s empty and cool to the touch, nothing seemingly triggered by his interaction.

“You said it yourself,” Yu replies, satisfied with its tangibility and moving to stand across from Adachi again. “The world is boring.” Still, even as the ambiance remains unchanging, he feels the awareness of Izanagi twitch at the back of his mind, a mix of his own fight-or-flight responses and its own seemingly independent sixth sense. From the uncomfortable, slightly startled look that falls over Adachi, Yu wonders if he’s experiencing the same.

Back from where he’d just turned away, a slow, methodical clapping fills the air, the sound falling from high above their heads and swirling all around them. “Bravo, bravo.”

And that…

That’s not the voice he expects.

He wasn’t aware he was bracing for one until it rings out, but where he was expecting something feminine and clear, what he’s greeted with instead is an uncanny echo. It’s something he’s only ever heard on recordings and his voicemail, a voice that’s his, yet not how he hears it. Rather…

It’s himself that’s standing before him, or rather sitting, slouched in the chair and its feet propped on the desk, slapping its palms together in sardonic praise. It’s him in every way that makes Yu himself, down to his school uniform, all save for its eyes, glowing bright yellow around black slits. From its perch at the news desk, his Shadow—his Shadow—appraises him, and the banal familiarity mixed with white-hot, entirely new horror cocktails into something awful and nauseous enough to nearly sweep him off his feet, the real Yu doubling forward as Adachi twitches at his side.

“You really do know always know the right words to say,” his Shadow commends. It regards the two with wide arched brows as it swings its feet off the desk, giving a last few claps before its hands fall silent again, leaving a void in their wake. It leans forward on its elbow, pointing at the real counterpart with a snap of its fingers. “I would expect nothing less. I’m familiar with our talents, after all.”

Fighting through the tightness in his stomach, Yu straightens and rolls his shoulders, forcing himself to stare at the Shadow rather than Adachi’s inscrutable expression and frozen limbs at his side. His doppelgänger rises to its feet, leaning against the desk with one hip. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“What are you?” Yu feels like he’s speaking through sludge, every movement of his jaw labored and painful.

There’s a hole burning in the side of his head from where Adachi’s pinned his eyes on him, but Yu still can’t bring himself to look away from his own face. The Shadow just clicks its tongue, and with another snap of his fingers, it disappears. For a second of blissful silence, Yu darts his gaze around the room, chasing shapes in the darkness for its outline, until one of the larger TVs near the center jolts and flickers to life with Yu’s face lighting up the surface, yellow-eyed and dressed down casual, almost an exact copy of his own shirt.

“Like you don’t know,” it mocks through the screen, and with each word, several more monitors around the room flicker to life, each lighting up with the same sneering facsimile of his face. “Why so shocked? You’ve seen everyone else go through it. Did you really think after all this time you’d be spared?”

The main TV it had originally spawned in changes back to static, but the other faces remain, blinking down at them from every imaginable angle, and in that brief space, subtle variations start to emerge. On each version of himself, there are different shirts and slightly different facial expressions, with some even seemingly slightly younger or older than him, but they all sport the exact same unchanging eyes. One of the tallest stacks of TVs—startlingly close to where Adachi is standing—flip on one by one, each monitor working to render the Shadow’s full-body form, once again dressed in his uniform.

“He’s right, you know,” the Shadow continues, gesturing lazily through the screen to somewhere around Adachi’s head. For what feels like the first time in minutes, Adachi’s attention jumps to the double and some of the tension dissipates from Yu’s body, though it’s immediately replaced by the pinched look across Adachi’s face and the absolute flush of delight across the Shadow’s. Adachi takes a step back, closer to the real Yu, but he’s leaning in to hear its words, and maybe Yu doesn’t want to see his expression after all. “You have been at this for a while. You give and give and give… and to what end? Has anyone really benefitted, or are you just spinning your wheels to try and feel better about your miserable failure?”

“Stop that,” Yu hisses, even though he knows better, even though he can feel a ghosting smile crawl across TV screen after TV screen to match the Shadow in front of him, a daring glint in its yellow eyes. It takes everything in him, but he tries to pivot, tries to say the right thing, tries to fight the beating insistence in his chest to run and jump straight into what he knows is a dead-end denial. “You know I’m trying.”

“You’re trying,” the Shadow mocks, childish and whining, the stack of TVs flickering off one by one to light up another stack in rhythm across the room, closer to Yu this time. He feels Adachi’s gaze light up his spine, but he’s not sure if he’s looking at him, or looking through him to the new manifestation.

When the Shadow has fully formed again, it takes a minute for his eyes to adjust through the static, but this version of him is unmistakably older, even if only by about two years. He’s shed his uniform for casual clothes Yu knows are nowhere in his closet, but feel familiar all the same, just like the faint lines across his face, and he’s dizzy. He doesn’t know how he’s still upright. “You’re Yu Narukami, you’re always trying. But who are you trying for? Your friends, who barely even know you? Your friends, who are only ever told what you know they want to hear?”

“You’re…” Yu tapers off. It’s amazing how easy it is. Even after twenty loops of watching it happen over and over again, even after years watching so many moments just like this from the sidelines that they feel benign, it’s still just so tempting to slip into. But he can’t. “That’s not what I’m doing.”

He wishes, deliriously, he had something to help him stand steady, and when Adachi flinches out of the corner of his eye, he wonders if he could get away with it, but he doesn’t try. It wouldn’t help even if he could. Grinning, the Shadow kneels down, blanking out the top TV into yellow fog as it pulls in closer to the screen, peering at Yu as each of the Shadow copies from around the room do the same. Pairs upon pairs of unblinking yellow eyes light up the studio, moving side to side in time with the Shadow as it assesses him, resting its elbow on its knee and chin in its palm.

“Oh, but what if it is?” The Shadow implores, rolling into each word. “There’s no telling for sure, after all. You can fail the quiz on purpose, but you still cheated to get the answers, so is that really real, then?”

Yu wants to deny it so deeply he can hardly snap his teeth around it before it passes through his lips, but the silence doesn’t feel any better, and judging by the soft, staticy laughter that rings through the studio as several monitors twitch and switch positions, it’s no less damning.

“Then who are you doing it for?” The Shadow presses as it pushes in closer and closer to the edge of the screen, crawling on hands and knees until it reaches out from the monitor and claws its way onto the tile, pulling its body out from the screens piece by piece. “That thing? Twenty and one, just for—”

“Stop it.” At this point, it feels like release, it feels like absolution, and he can barely push it out fast enough, too afraid of what’s coming next to do anything but yell it out just for the sake of cutting it out of the air. “You’re not me.”

When the Shadow smiles at that, it’s all teeth, whiter and broader than anything Yu’s own face is capable of making, spreading across the full length of its jawline to distort his natural expression into something grotesque. Yu reels back as it crawls forward out from the TVs to its feet, and when it moves, each part of its body begins to glitch and shift, mismatched static boxes covering the length of it until even its face is blanketed underneath it. As it straightens, each begins to dissipate, leaving behind residues of its static signature and a piece of each Shadow double it had made with it, until it’s an amalgamation of all of its parts standing before them, stitched together like a makeshift ragdoll.

Its face, once smooth in an approximation of Yu’s own, has become a patchwork of different frozen expressions and variations of his Shadow, and down its body, it is warped just the same. Its limbs bend and glitch into double, its torso cutting in and out in various geometric shapes from where the static broke unevenly in the merge. What remains are only its smile and its eyes, yellow as ever and transfixed on them. He can almost feel Adachi shift behind him, and when he turns around, Adachi’s trained on him again, eyes wide and lips pressed in a serious line, but the corners of both are soft with shock and something else he doesn’t have a name for. It makes him feel stripped raw all the same, bared down to the bone even more than he already was.

Beneath his skin, Izanagi rises to the surface, but he hardly gets a chance to feel the surge of its power before his Shadow raises one of its doubled, broken hands to strike. It’s his mask’s twin instead that jumps into the fray first, solid and strong, and summoned, for once, without Adachi clutching at his head in pain. Magatsu fields the attack just as Izanagi fully manifests, pushing in front of Yu to halt the strike. In the second Yu spares to glance at Adachi’s reaction to the two side-by-side, another attack from the Shadow’s unoccupied limb ensures he won’t get the chance to see it all.

Before his world goes black, the only thing he hears cut through the static of the room is his own name—loud, clear, and so close to concern he could swear it was real, but in the next second, he slips down into the darkness, and it’s lost in the echo.

He comes to on the cool tile floor to see Adachi’s face, haggard and torn with a cut under his neck, looking like he’s just seen a ghost. He doesn’t even think he could speak if he tried, throat dry and aching past a lump lodged inside it. There’s a bruise blossoming just underneath Adachi’s right cheek; he can see it from where he’s turned in the light, looking somewhere over Yu’s body but not quite at his face. He wants to keep his eyes open, because Adachi’s dripping blood from his neck and it looks painful, but the lights are bright, and his body feels heavy.

“Hey,” Adachi murmurs from above, giving a light shove to Yu’s shoulder. The contact makes him flinch and stir, and he curls into his side. He feels a brush against his ribs, like the faint touch of a knee. “Yu, hey, come on, Dojima’s gonna kill me.”

The sound of his name—clear and close enough to his ear to be unmistakable as anything else—jolts his eyes open without a hint of resistance, and when his eyes adjust to the lights, Adachi’s closer over him than before, fluttering around him with manic, aimless motion. His lips part like he’s about to speak, but Yu just shakes his head, preoccupied with the blood that’s bloomed across Adachi’s collar. He gathers just enough energy to flip through his thoughts and summon the first healer he can find, and the serpentine body of Kohryu rises up above their heads to rain down an electrified warmth across their bodies before disappearing back into the fog again. All the while, Yu watches Adachi’s face as some of the wounds begin to dissipate, a deep scratch across his cheek lifting up cell by cell to leave smooth skin underneath.

After a slack-jawed beat, Adachi seems to process it all and mutters, “Okay, good. Great. Jesus. There’s more.”

Yu doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to talk at all, but he pushes himself up to his feet little by little and says, “I think it’s just a me thing.”

He doesn’t have to look back at Adachi to hear the roll of his eyes. “Of course it is.”

When he does look back, there’s more trepidation in Adachi’s expression than he anticipates as he follows him up to stand, chewing down on his bottom lip like he doesn’t quite know what to say, and whatever urge Yu has to spare him from that, he’s too tired to follow it.

He doesn’t want to say it, but he has to. Besides, he knows it’s the truth. Part of him always did. “I know you’re me.”

He doesn’t know what he expects his Shadow to be doing, but whatever it is, it isn’t what he finds when he turns around: his body curled up beside the desk, leaning against a stack of blackened TVs and hiding its head in its knees. From Adachi’s even expression as he follows Yu’s eyes, it must have been this way since before he’d woken up, but seeing it now, Yu has to swallow a flush of heat that spreads through his body, a little bit like pity, a little bit like shame.

“I can’t end up alone,” the Shadow sobs into its hands, and for a minute, Yu thinks he’s never heard one sound so broken. So human. But maybe it’s just the fact it’s his. “I can’t. I’m so afraid of losing them. I’m so afraid they’ll leave.”

It’s easier than he expects to approach it this time, and despite the ache in his knees, he bends down with surprising grace to put a hand to its head. It feels like static electricity, but it also feels like his own, so he doesn’t let it linger long, letting his hand fall as he speaks. “I know. I am too.”

When his Shadow disappears and his thoughts clear like the break of day after a storm, Yu leans against the TVs in the spot it leaves behind, and just breathes. He doesn’t want to talk about it.

Adachi makes some joke about finding the exit that Yu doesn’t even have the energy to pretend to laugh at, not even when the first TV they try brings them right back to the suite of the Inn, backpack still where Yu left it on the chair. He’s silent when Adachi meets his eyes wordlessly and pulls out the keys to his car, but Yu could cry from the relief of the sound.

Adachi reaches out his hand right before they get into the car, and Yu eventually manages to figure out he’s asking for his bag. When Adachi offers him his own lunchbox back, in some unsteady show of tacit encouragement, Yu tries to capture whatever warmth rises in his chest at the gesture, and takes it with a nod. He doesn’t even protest at Adachi putting his bag in the backseat rather than just handing it back. There are bigger issues at hand, he figures, like figuring out how to navigate chopsticks when he feels like collapsing against the window and closing his eyes for days on end, or at least until he’s home and alone again.

He doesn’t want to talk about it, but Adachi leans over halfway through the drive home and, softer than Yu knew his voice could get, says, “Hey, kid.”

His throat aches with dust and exhaustion, but he manages a quiet, “Yeah.”

“Are you, like…” Adachi fades out, gripping the wheel tight with a sigh as some of the tension seems to dissipate. In the mirror, Yu can see him work to smooth out some of the lines of his face before he turns towards Yu, but when he does, his eyes are bright and clear, and Yu feels like he can look straight into them without flinching away. It’s a relief, with everything. “Are you good?”

For the first time since he’s woken up, Yu feels his face crack into a light smile at that, because it’s so sincere and so wrong and so strangely familiar that it washes over him like cool water he didn’t know he needed. It takes some of the burning edge off of his shame, which had been tearing up inside his mind through the expansive quiet between them until now, where it soothes down to a mild hum. “Yeah.”

After that, they fall silent again, and with his bite of tofu finished, Yu leans his head against the window finally, exhaling at the press of glass against his temples, throbbing with the slight ache that always comes after a particularly brutal session in the TV. Adachi must be affected by it too—even cleaned up, he’s still bruised—but he’s driving like nothing’s wrong at all.

“About what your double said,” Adachi begins as they turn down their street, and the comforting wash of his voice turns to ice, jolting Yu upright in his seat and almost knocking his lunchbox over. He closes it up with shaking hands, clutching it tight to hide the tremor as he waits for him to continue, shoulders wound tight. “Your little friends know about this, don’t they?”

Yu breathes out as they roll to a stop in front of the Dojima house, heart regaining its cadence as he tries to adjust to the question and its stark difference from the accusations he’d been bracing for. He swallows, trying to find his voice again past the tension in his throat. “Yeah. Most of them.”

There’s too much brewing inside his chest for Yu to look at Adachi straight on, so he looks at him through his reflection in the window. Even then, he seems to find his eyes all too easily. “I hate to admit it, but,” Adachi begins.

Yu can’t know what he’s about to say; he just nods.

“I don’t think we should go back in alone.”

Yu tries to recalibrate to that, reaching for his backpack and sliding his lunchbox inside, but not before placing Adachi’s on the armrest between them, closing up the zipper on his bag for emphasis. He may be exhausted, but he can remember the important things in his haze.

“Really?” Yu asks, because he doesn’t know how else to respond. He’s never thought this far ahead, on any level of today, really. The script’s been lost for ages, but the feeling still shakes him in moments like these, where the paradigm shifts so drastically and so suddenly he’s left with nothing to do but accept it and breathe.

“Yeah,” Adachi sighs and scratches at the back of his head, cutting the engine. “I don’t want…”

He watches his reflection in the window as Adachi closes his eyes, and only then does Yu feel safe enough to turn back around to him again, hand on the door but not opening it just yet. When Adachi opens them again, the same exhaustion Yu’s feeling is reflected back at him, but there are layers to it, layers that Yu finds himself, frustratingly, too tired and ignorant to pull apart in the way he wants to. But maybe he just wants to pull everything apart like that.

“I don’t want either of us to end up in that situation again,” Adachi finishes after a moment, startling Yu out of his too-close staring. “It’s shitty. And I’m still not off the hook, you know.”

Yu doesn’t really know what to say to that either, because it is, but he’s running out of excuses for when Adachi’s words surprise him, considering just about everything that’s passed through his lips tonight has. But Adachi doesn’t seem to mind his silence, so Yu simply reaches for the door handle, looks at him directly, and says, quietly, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adachi dismisses. Whatever expression he has at that, it’s masked by the shadows of the car as Yu pulls out to stand, lingering with the door open as Adachi hits the engine again. “Get some rest, kid.”

With reluctance, Yu shuts the door and mutters, “You, too.”

Chapter Text

The prolonged slurping sound of the last few drops of juice being sucked up a straw kills the already stilted conversation, but Adachi still lets long, languid seconds pass before he finally relents and addresses the two pairs of wide eyes across the table from him with a high-pitched laugh. “What?”

Yosuke’s been biting back words behind pursed lips and a violently bouncing knee, but the silence must finally break him, because he uncrosses his legs, sighing. “Why is he here again?”

Yu parts his lips, then closes them in the space it takes Adachi to wave his empty cup in displeasure, straw rattling as he squawks, indignant, “I have a name!”

At Yosuke’s side, Chie swings her legs under the table while she sips her own beverage thoughtfully. Yu’s is down to the dredges, but he drinks quieter than Adachi had, observing the flow of the table from Adachi’s side and facing the other two down like an inquisition.

It’s a sunny day, and it’s starting to get warmer with the coming of April, but that’s not quite the reason he’s sweating under his uniform. It’s more the expression on their faces—skeptical, and just a little bit hurt. He’s been shrinking from it since they sat down, but with Adachi wound tight, there’s not really anywhere else to turn, and Yosuke’s eyes bore holes into the middle of his forehead.

“Right, Adachi,” Yosuke corrects himself half-heartedly.

Yu puts a hand to the back of his neck, smoothing out the hairs at the nape that have curled up from humidity. Yosuke called him the night before, late after Adachi had dropped him off at home, with the request that they meet today to talk. His voice had been heavy with implication, and now, looking into his sharpened eyes, there’s awareness in them that means he’s started to fit the pieces together.

After Yosuke had hung up last night, Yu called Adachi to ask him again if he was serious, because even now his head is still racing to wrap around the idea that he wants this, wants the whole operation. Sliding his eyes to him in the light of day, he’s not convinced, especially by the tight line of tension tracing his jaw, but Adachi had just yawned into the receiver, not sounding like he bothered to pull the phone away from his lips for it.

“About you and your lame friends?” he’d asked, impatient with a sigh. “Yeah, kid, I’m pretty sure. I’m not stupid, it’s called safety in numbers. Go to bed.”

Adachi did a great job—is still doing a great job—at sounding definitive, but Yu knows all too well that his overconfidence is the flip side to his mask of incompetence, and even sitting here, Yu doesn’t know how far to read into it. He peers at him out of the corner of his eyes, tracing the profile of his clenched teeth, his lopsided nose, his forced-smooth brow where only a small crease above his eye remains, until Adachi turns to him sharply and blinks, reminding Yu that he was the last at the table to be addressed.

“I brought him because he’s relevant,” Yu says, clearing his throat and turning back towards Yosuke and Chie, who are looking at him with the same matching blank expectation that Adachi had mirrored. “I’m sorry. I know you guys aren’t stupid, and I know you know something’s up.”

Chie glances over to Yosuke, who meets her for only a moment before he fixates back on Yu again, tapping his toe against the legs of the table hard enough for the vibrations to be felt on the other side. Chie leans on her wrist and sips at her drink, deciding to instead survey Yu and Adachi like a ping-pong match is occurring between their heads. “How much does he know?”

Yu hums and catches Adachi’s eyes, but he can’t read anything behind his tight lips and even gaze. “Um. A good amount.”

“Define that.” Yosuke points his drink at Yu over the table, the straw flopping menacingly.

“I don’t like the idea of some cop knowing more than Yukiko,” Chie offers, digging a piece of beef indelicately out of her teeth with a curled lip. “Even if it is dangerous.”

“Hey, it was an accident,” Adachi stutters, putting his hands up, and maybe it’s the lack of sleep, maybe it’s the way his head’s been spinning for days on end, but the tone—high, scratchy, and deeply artificial—grates at Yu, itching under his skin. “I was just minding my own business.”

Still, Yu sighs into, “He was. I was the one who ran into him.”

Folding his hands on the table in surrender, Yu recounts what he can, trying to focus on his words rather than the way Adachi shifts at his side, brushing their knees together briefly under the table as he crosses his and turns to him. He starts with the same lie, that he was just wandering the halls, but it’s smooth on his tongue, and easy when the rest of it is the truth. They were just talking, Mayumi Yamano just happened to be the charge Adachi was watching, and the second they turned their back for even a flash, she was gone.

“It felt wrong to act like I didn’t know there was another exit,” Yu explains, tracing his nail through the holes in the patio table. The furniture is new, but the plastic coating is already starting to wear in places. “When I knew full well there was, technically.”

“And you didn’t think to…” Yosuke has been relatively patient with him up until now, only interjecting to clarify or affirm his understanding, but he chews at his lip now, pressing his thumb over the hole of his straw in some sort of rhythm. “I don’t know, wait until you could have gone in with us from here? Teddie would have been able to find her.”

Adachi, who has been conspicuously quiet throughout Yu’s explanation, deferring to him unless Yosuke specifically seeks his response, pipes up at that. “Teddie?”

“You’ll see later.” The flash of that meeting he gets in his mind is enough for Yu to have to bite back laughter, so he straightens up, folding his hands. “It happened fast, I wasn’t thinking. I felt like I had to act. Besides, we’re…”

He doesn’t realize the word on the tip of his tongue is friends until he’s catching it just between his teeth, aware of the way Adachi’s hands are somewhere out of sight in his lap and the line around his jaw has tightened again, and he’s not sure if it’s because of what he’s not saying or whatever he might be saying next. Either way, he swallows, continuing, “We know each other pretty well.”

Judging by the way Adachi’s eyes flicker to him and widen, he’s not sure that was the less incriminating option, but he feels his own lips quirk up anyway when he meets them, and Adachi’s face breaks, just a little, exhaling a faint disbelief. It loosens some of the tension, so he’ll take it.

“Oh, right,” Chie appraises, drawing out the syllables as she takes another long, noisy drink. She leans forward onto the cup, like she’s put together a puzzle only she’s solving. “He’s your uncle’s partner or whatever, yeah?”

“I prefer lackey,” Adachi clarifies, picking at a peeling piece of plastic on the table with a shrug and a forced smile. “It’s more accurate.”

“Sure,” Chie says, like she could have gone without that information.

“The point being,” Yu continues, watching his own hands trace over one another, calloused and rough from the hilt of his sword, even in this world. “He’s like us.”

At that, Yosuke unfolds his legs and leans back, closing his eyes and breathing in before he rolls forward to face Yu, folding his arms. “So you did. You did go into the TV without us.”

There’s one thing to imply it and another to more or less confirm it, he figures. The thought he could have maybe, just maybe done this conversation without it doesn’t escape him, but that doesn’t change the fact that Adachi is at his side, close enough to feel his movements as a breeze against his own body, and he knows the truth. Whether or not he’d even cover for him is another story entirely, and regardless, it seems unwise to insult his friends’ intelligence like that when proving Adachi’s potential as a member is part of the goal, here. He’ll have to own up eventually, and now’s as good a time as any.

Different versions of him, maybe, would have lied about it anyway, different loops and different scenarios, but this version of him still feels shaky, stripped-down and air-light from the past few days, and this version doesn’t have it in him. Not this time. All that remains is how much of the truth he’s willing to offer. The answer is, at least for now, enough.

“I’m sorry,” Yu apologizes, and it’s sincere. “I feel bad for not waiting for you guys. I just felt like I had to. And I couldn’t just wait for the police to leave, it’s a crime scene. Someone was missing.”

“And so you just… what? Jumped in after him?” Adachi doesn’t seem to realize Chie is speaking to him directly until she puts a hand down on the table across from him hard to steal his attention, and Yu doesn’t process he’d been looking at him as he spoke until his focus is stolen away. “Some police officer you are.”

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s an active case,” Adachi defends, putting his hands up to shield his chest, palms facing towards them. He clears his throat, brandishing his index finger as if to improve his point. “He said he had an exit. I can’t just not investigate the crime scene.”

His voice is still modulated into something ugly and forced, but he looks over to Yu as he says it, like they have a secret but he isn’t quite sure he wants to acknowledge it, and he swears he sees a flash of red across his cheekbones, but it’s gone before he can be sure. It’s a few beats into the silence before Yu remembers to take the point.

“He faced his Shadow in there,” Yu continues, twisting his straw between his fingers. “Just like us.”

Yosuke makes a little noise in the back of his throat, crossing his legs again. “I think you mean just like us.”

Yu chews on the inside corner of his lip, and though he can feel Adachi scanning the side of his face, he keeps his own eyes down at his hands, only looking up once he’s properly swallowed the guilt and implication of that sentiment, because there’s a time and a place for that. This conversation is about something else, and when he squares his focus, it’s on Yosuke, looking back at him as innocent to Yu’s internal battle as can be.

A few rounds of questioning about the specifics later, mostly confirming that the nature of Adachi’s shadow and awakening was, in fact, the same as theirs—sometimes Yu forgets this isn’t just old hat to them—he’s able to sneak in the all-important fact, one the rest of the table seems to have forgotten. “We still haven’t found her, though.”

“Oh?” Yosuke perks up from where he’d been staring at Adachi hunched over across the table with quirked eyebrows, blinking at Yu with eyes wide. “So that means, you think…”

“That she’s still in the TV,” Yu finishes, leaning back and crossing his arms. He misses his glasses in this world sometimes, if only for something to do with his hands when he adjusts them on his face. “I think we should go tonight. All of us.”

Chie frowns at this, looking up from where she’d been busying herself making a tiny sculpture out of the torn plastic of her lid. “I still think we should tell Yukiko.”

“Why not go now?” Yosuke interjects, tossing a lock of hair back behind his ear, headphones falling slightly across his neck to one side.

Adachi coughs, rolling his eyes behind his wrist just enough for Yu to see in his periphery before a smile is plastered back on his face, leaning his elbows on the table. “Unlike you, some of us are adults and actually have work.” He pretends to take another sip of his drink, just for good measure. “Also, I strongly advise against looping any other brats into this mess. That’s my official legal recommendation here.”

Yosuke grits his teeth, the line of tension visible from across the table, but still, he says, “He’s right. It really isn’t safe, at least for now.”

At his side, Chie deflates some, but she doesn’t protest, sighing and sitting on her hands as she rocks forward, resting her chin on the table. “We’re not gonna be able to keep it from her forever, you know.”

“The Inn’s already swarming with reporters,” Adachi says, pointing his cup at Chie with a flourish before setting it down. “Probably best to leave Miss Heiress out of it.”

Yosuke nods, but it’s not without another sigh, readjusting the cross of his arms and shrugging, a thoughtful look falling across his face with furrowed brows. “I just have one question, then.”

It’s apparently his turn to look between the two of them as if there’s some secret to be revealed in the space there, each of them pointedly looking somewhere ahead rather than at the body at their sides. Yosuke hums, scanning them back and forth once before settling on Adachi, tapping his foot again.

“Are you coming as an officer?” Yosuke asks. Yu turns to Adachi just a degree for the answer as well, fairly certain he knows, but not enough to stake everything on it so easily. “Because that changes things. I understand Yu’s vouching for you, and that means a lot. But I think I speak for all of us in saying I don’t want the cops too involved in this.”

Adachi’s eyes flicker back and forth between Yu and Yosuke in rapid succession as he stirs the empty contents of his drink. “For real? Do you think I’m psychotic? I’m coming as a civilian.”

He registers the words themselves, but Yu’s caught on to the idea of vouching for him, the phrase repeating on an echoed loop undercurrenting his thoughts. He didn’t know that’s what he’d been projecting, but it must not take much for his underlying goals to bleed through if he’s not careful. It was a part of the conversation he was going to work up to, but if it’s so blatant, it’s best to cut to the chase.

“So he can join us, then.” Yu feels the words reverberate high in his throat where they catch on some lingering nerves he didn’t know were still gripping him, but he gets them out smoothly, for the most part. “Not all the time, our schedules don’t align anyway. But with things like this, it’s better to have more firepower than less, right?”

Yosuke licks his lips like he’s feeling out a word on his tongue, but it sounds fairly definitive when he echoes, “Right.”

Chie leans back and folds her hands with a clap, nodding. “I don’t see why not.”

Yosuke pulls one of his knees up onto the bench, leaning his elbow on it and peering at Adachi from across the table. “It might be good to have an in with the police, anyway. As long as they don’t keep us from doing our work.”

“Trust me,” Adachi sings into the vowels, rolling his head back and cracking his neck with a wince, waving in Yosuke’s vague direction. “I have no interest in mixing the two.”

Scanning Adachi’s face, Yu tries once again to read the lines written across them, but they’re obscured by a plasticine smile, too on-display for anything approaching honesty. Still, when he catches Yu looking, he meets his eyes and something softens. Even if it’s just exhaustion, Yu takes it, and uses it as his voice when he speaks.

“Tonight, then.”

With the case, Dojima’s working late almost every night, so slipping back out to Junes is easy. Nanako will be headed off to bed within a few hours, and she’s used to him appearing and disappearing at odd hours of the day by now, regardless. He takes the back roads through a field to Junes because it’s too late in the day for the old ladies to be out and make a fuss, still early enough in the year that the sun sets before Yu’s night is even halfway over.

When he arrives, Adachi is already milling awkwardly about the lobby, still in his suit and looking around at nothing like he’s pretending to be busy for Dojima, even off the clock. He barely bristles at Yu’s approach until he's only a few paces away, and finally he lets his eyes slide over to him, looking a lot more exhausted but more like himself than he’d left him earlier in the day.

“Are the others here yet?” Yu asks, but before it’s even out of his mouth, he anticipates the shrug Adachi gives in reply.

“I dunno,” he replies, muffled with a yawn behind his hand. He shoves the other one in his pocket, slouching into it. “Maybe.”

Yu offers a smile, and isn’t too put out when it isn’t returned. Adachi turns from him to half-hide behind his raised hand, turning it into an unwieldy scratch of his head. “Let’s go find out, then.”

The others are, in fact, already there, probably sneaking in through the back entrance that’s significantly closer to the electronics section. Yu had a feeling that Adachi would be found here, and if Yu had followed the same path, Adachi might not have ever joined back up with them. By how tightly Adachi seems to follow in his step, he made the right call. When they arrive at the usual TV, Adachi stares at it as if it might bite, scanning the ghost-quiet department like a fellow officer might dart out of the aisles at any moment. This doesn’t seem to dissipate when Yu sticks his hand in—if anything, he looks mildly disgusted by the sight—but he follows Yu in after he crawls through.

Yu lands easily on his feet, as do Yosuke and Chie behind him, leaving only Adachi a crumpled mess on the floor of the Junes entrance studio, cheek pressed against the tile and feet somewhere over his head. Chie muffles a laugh, Yosuke just winces as Adachi crawls to his feet, and Yu has to smooth over a quirk of his own lips at the indignation written across his face. Yu offers out a hand, but Adachi doesn’t take it, crawling to his feet in a gangly mess of limbs before brushing off the dirt with a frown.

For a minute, the platform is quiet, but it only lasts a minute before Teddie’s squeaking steps are heard in the distance, followed shortly by his imposing shadow through the fog. At his side, Adachi tenses while Chie and Yosuke pull out their glasses, and Yu does his best to project calm as he does the same, wiping at the lenses with his shirt as Teddie approaches. When he emerges, it seemingly does nothing to assuage Adachi’s anxiety. Yu pretends not to notice how he’s stepped halfway behind him or how wide his eyes are. The way Teddie immediately fixes his unblinking gaze on him as a newcomer only adds to the tension surrounding him in the air.

“Oh?” Teddie asks, and already, Yu can tell by the tightness in his cartoonish voice that there’s an emotional storm underneath, probably one that’s been brewing for quite a while. The possibility that Teddie was able to track his movements in the TV hasn’t escaped Yu, but there’s a crease in his little bear brow that seems harder-worn than just that. “And who’s this?”

Adachi doesn’t seem keen on answering that himself, too busy staring at Teddie rocking back and forth on his heels as if he might charge forward at any moment, so Yu takes the point. “Teddie, this is Adachi. Adachi, Teddie. He’s a new member.”

“Sometimes member,” Adachi corrects, because apparently he can speak after all. When the moment calls for it. He’s still positioned at Yu’s back and peering at Teddie from around his shoulder, and Teddie peers right back, glancing at him up and down with a paw to his chin in thought. “No one told me there was a membership. And what the hell is this thing?”

“My name,” Teddie growls, a decidedly adorable and not at all intimidating sound, “is Teddie! Geeze, sensei, your friends sure are rude.”

If the use of the word ‘friend’ registers to Adachi at all, he doesn’t show it, too occupied with gawking at the inhuman way expressions pull across Teddie’s mascot head with a vaguely disturbed expression, but Yu has to swallow something down. “He’s… just Teddie. He’s our guide in this world, kind of.”

As Adachi seems to be contemplating just what to say in the face of that, Teddie clears his throat, stomping his paw on the ground to grab their attention.

“But that’s not important right now!” Teddie’s mouth draws into a hard wedge shape—impossible to take seriously but the closest he gets to real anger. Chie and Yosuke, who had been bickering at his side, fall quiet at that, and Yu is heartened by how quickly they always manage to fall into their old routines. “What’s important is that you,” he points a claw at Yu, and by implication, Adachi in his shadow, “you have been sneaking around without me.”

“And you.” Before Yu can even apologize or justify that, Teddie hushes him faster than he can even open his mouth, switching the point of his claw to Yosuke and Chie and continuing, “You haven’t visited me in ages! You have no idea what I’ve been through!”

Yu is fairly certain it’s impossible for actual tears to come out of his mascot eyes, but Teddie looks about as close as he’s ever seen him to letting them slip out if they could. Surprisingly, Adachi of all people is the first to break at that, crawling out from behind Yu’s shadow to slowly inch over a few paces and give him a single, stilted pat on the head. Teddie jerks away from it, just as he always does at first when he’s pretending to be too mad for affection, so Adachi frowns and gives him a light push instead. Even from where Yu’s standing, it’s clear there’s no real force behind it, but Teddie topples over like a domino anyway, sputtering as he uses the force to bounce back up as quickly as he went down.

“I tell you I’ve suffered and then you push me?” Teddie wails, flailing his limbs to regain his balance before rolling up on the balls of his paws in an attempt to be menacing. It doesn’t work, but Adachi seems to take the hint, reeling back a few tripped steps and putting his hands up in front of his chest. “This sure is a wild one.”

“I didn’t know you were made of cardboard,” Adachi objects, retreating back to Yu’s side with an exaggerated tip-toeing motion that makes Yu’s earlier visions of how this interaction might go seem absolutely tame in comparison. It gets a chuckle out of even Chie, and Yosuke is just looking between the two of them with slightly-parted lips like a fish. “Last time I try, Jesus.”

As entertaining as it is, Yu has to pull the plug at some point, because while the dynamic with Adachi may be new, he knows from experience songs and dances like these can go on indefinitely if not interrupted. “What have you been through, then?”

“Glad you asked!” At that, Teddie immediately perks up, brushing off imaginary studio dust with a professional wipe and standing at attention. “This place reeks, is what I’m dealing with! The stench of someone else in here is so strong, it showed up out of nowhere a few days ago and I can’t stomach it! I’ve been waiting for you to come back.”

“That’s what we’re here about, actually,” Yu interjects, putting a hand to his hip. “We’re trying to find her. Can you take us there?”

Teddie makes a show of sniffing the air, once, twice, before his nose curls and he makes a face, putting a paw over his snout. “I know exactly bear it is.”

Just like that, he spins on his heel and starts marching down one of the catwalks that lead away from the studio. Yu watches out of the corner of his eye as Yosuke and Chie move to follow Teddie along with him, but Adachi stays completely still, rooted in the spot just behind where Yu was standing. Yu swears he hears Adachi mumble an echo of Teddie’s words back under his breath, emphasizing the bear, but it’s not clear enough to be sure until he speaks up again.

“Uh, where exactly are we going?” Adachi asks, glancing around the studio with squinted eyes. Yu looks to Yosuke and Chie to find them looking back, glancing between themselves as Yu puts a hand to the glasses on his face. “I can’t see anything.”

“Oh?” Teddie perks up at that, spinning around on his heel to bounce back over and assess Adachi with his tongue half sticking out. He positions his hands in the shape of a frame over Adachi’s face and squints, tapping his paw a few times before he mouths a decisive ‘aha’ and turns back around to the sound of shuffling. After a few moments he brandishes the glasses in his paws, complete with the swirling eyes and garish nose, and he holds them outstretched with all the pride of a new mother, smiling from ear to ear. Before Adachi can react, Teddie reaches up on his tip-toes and slides them on his face, retreating seamlessly in the same step. “This should help!”

“Ha! Good one. You’re hilarious!” Adachi manages, voice high and fake, moving to take them off. Teddie just watches him expectantly. “Wait. You’re joking, right?” Adachi stays planted exactly where he is on the studio floor, all trace of humor and affectation temporarily gone from his voice as he blinks at Teddie, blank-faced. “I’m not wearing these.”

It doesn’t cut the inherent hilarity in how he looks, though, and within seconds, Chie is cracking up at Yu’s side, doubling over her knees and not bothering to hide the sound at all, while at least Yosuke has the decency to hide behind his hand as he fights his own fit of laughter. Try as he might, Yu can’t completely fight back the chuckle that rises in his throat, and the look of wide-mouthed betrayal Adachi gives him is enough to make him turn away, but not quite enough to make him feel bad.

“You don’t like them?” Teddie pouts, but his voice too is full of unabashed amusement. Still, he takes them back when Adachi flings them off his face with a disgusted twist of his lips and slides them somewhere into his fur, turning around again to start his tinkering. “Fine, I’ll make you something else.”

Seconds later, he produces another pair of decidedly serious glasses, rounder than the others with a thick black frame and a rainbow television stripe on the sides. Adachi steps forward and snatches them out of his outstretched paws with a frown, turning them them over and blinking at them in suspicion before slowly putting them on his face and taking in the view, casting his gaze all around the studio before letting it fall back on the group.

He looks a bit put-out from earlier, but Yu says it in all honesty when he remarks, “They look good.” He’s never seen him in glasses before, but these frame his face well, softening his jawline and lifting his eyes.

“There!” Teddie declares, throwing his little paws in the air in victory as Adachi turns his face away to hide whatever expression falls over it, masking a cough. “For Adachy-baby.”

One by one, every single gaze flickers to Yu, and heat immediately rises to his face. “I didn’t tell him to say that.”

To his horror, they only look like they sort of believe him, but Yu leads the procession after Teddie down the catwalk and into the hull of the TV world anyway.

On the approach, it strikes Yu that he must have never seen the outside of the complex. At least, not from this angle. He’d remember how this looks, because while he’s always traversed the residential hallways and walkups, he’s never come at it straight on from the studio, never seen the high-arching spires that make up the fence guarding an otherwise completely benign building. Yet, that’s exactly what he sees now:the same apartment complex as always, one he’s driven by in real life on the more recently-developed end of town, but it’s covered by a gate that spirals high into the sky, imposing and taller than the clouds.

From the hill above, the building is visibly hollowed out in the middle, just as it is in real life, but instead of the courtyard he knows is at the center, there’s a guard tower sprouting up from the weeds, spanning up just as high as the spires, past where Yu’s eyes can see. At the center, a single light scans through the clouds and onto the grass in the valley below, circling the perimeter of the tower and shining over the walls of the apartment building. The clouds hang low in the valley, just at the base of the rooftop, and the fog even lower still, so it’s no wonder that even with his glasses, it’s unlikely he would have seen it unless he was looking. That’s often how this world works, he’s found, and his focus has always been on the interior. The exterior is even more imposing, casting its atmosphere across their steps as they circle the perimeter and head towards the walkway that leads to the courtyard, cognizant of the light that shines up above.

“Well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Adachi remarks, just low enough for Yu to hear. “Pleasant decor.” He’s taken to standing closest to him—not that he can blame him for preferring the familiar face in all of this, but he has the feeling if he called it out, he’d stand in the back for the rest of the operation, and it’s better to have him at his side when it’s still so new. In response, Yu offers him a wry smile, gesturing for him and the others to follow towards the left side of the building, towards the fire exit that leads to the hallways.

Getting to the building itself is surprisingly easy—they only have to duck behind a nearby bush to avoid the glare of the spotlight once, and the world is quiet, save for the usual moan of the wind through the fog. Stepping up first to an inconspicuous glass door marked with a neon ‘exit’ sign, Yu puts a finger to his lips and pushes it open, listening for the echo when it scrapes against the tile.

Cautiously, he takes one step forward into the darkness, sending his gaze down the airlock and into the darkened courtyard beyond, then down each empty hallway, allowing him to sneak in a single, half-relieved breath—before something grabs at his ankles and sends him tumbling down and under, his back scraping against the uneven floor as he’s dragged fast and hard. Behind him, he hears indistinct shouting, but it’s lost in the roar of his ears, the sound of his own body hitting the ground, and the moaning of Shadows getting closer and closer in the darkness, even as rough steps begin to follow him down the path.

What he does hear is a clear, loud call of, “Magatsu-Izanagi.”

It’s a nothing Shadow, especially for Yu, but it caught him off guard and holds on strong. It’s only when lightning hits the Shadow holding him that he’s able to break free, kicking loose and reeling back up to his feet to see Adachi standing behind him, flanked by Chie and Yosuke on either side with Magastu-Izanagi floating over his head, its piercing on the disintegrating Shadow over Yu’s shoulder. For a moment, he stares at the Persona, its familiar face and unfamiliar eyes, but another Shadow moan cuts through the silence, and there’s two more where that came from, so he summons his own Izanagi. It doesn’t escape him, the way his friends look between the figures floating over his and Adachi’s heads.

It’s over in minutes, as is the next fight, and the one after that. Conspicuously, neither Yosuke nor Chie comment on the blatant similarities on display, though Yosuke does meet his gaze for at least a second after nearly every battle. Selfishly, Yu is glad he doesn’t have to waste his energy now of all times on explaining himself. Despite how familiar he figured this area would be, he finds he doesn’t have much extra of it to spare. Finding Mayumi Yamano’s room was always easy—it always happened to be the first one he entered—but there’s no such luck in this version of the complex.

The fire escape leads them to an external hallway, looping around the outside of the courtyard to frame the exits of each room, and up close, the guard tower is even more imposing. Rows of ivy and moss grow up its sides, yet the surface is smooth and uncracked, like it’s brand new despite the greenery. The complex itself isn’t large, but it feels imposing, with rows and rows of windows and doors lining up to stare down at them from every angle, never mind the windows of the guard tower doing the same. Yu feels himself clinging to the edges of the hallway as they fight through the Shadows that guard it, past winding staircases and torn posters of Mizuzu Hiragi, all too aware of the lights shining down from the rooms as if the eyes of all the residents were trained on their every step.

It’s not a tall building, so they reach the top within a few floors of fighting, and while the others have taken a bit of a dent, Yu has barely broken a sweat, save for the unrelenting feeling of watchfulness pin-pricking the back of his neck. He keeps looking over his shoulder to find only his friends, as always. Adachi has his hands in his pockets, trying hard not to notice the others watching him, and the others trying hard to watch him without being noticed. Yu isn’t on their radar, and yet, he feels on one all the same, uneasy as he approaches the upper-story lofts. It’s a wide-plan floor with only two doors, one half-ajar leading to a lookout to the valley, and the other, he presumes, to Mayumi Yamano.

Yu realizes it might come across as a loaded question, but he looks at Adachi, and asks it anyway. “Are you sure about this?”

He says it in the same voice he uses to address the group as the leader, so unsurprisingly, Yosuke takes the point first. “Of course we are. She could be in danger.”

Yu turns, just a little, like that was enough, but he keeps his eyes trained on Adachi, and waits to face the door in full until he hears him say, “As I’ll ever be.”

When he opens the door, he’s relieved to find it’s familiar—perhaps the only part of this place that hasn’t been changed. It’s the same greenish room, the same tall windows, the same desk and the same posters, the same foggy light shining across the dusty floors. And in the center, Mayumi Yamano is crumpled to her knees, head in her hands in front of her perfect double, a twisted smile on the Shadow’s perfect teeth.

“Oh my, oh my, and our audience grows,” it crows, throwing its arms out wide and spinning once in its heels while the real Yamano chokes on what sounds like a sob, shoulders shaking. “Welcome to our show, boys and girls. I’m your host, and our subject today is one sad state of affairs.”

Yu readjusts his grip on the hilt of his sword, and steps forward just as the walls of the room come down, crumbling to dust to expose the entirety of the apartment to the courtyard, facing down the guard tower with its blinding light pointing directly at Mayumi Yamano. It illuminates the room in an unearthly glow, bright and garish, and from the floor, she looks up, eyes shining and red with anger. From the windows of each room that surrounds them from the courtyard, the same eyes look back, unblinking and glowing white through the black to watch unobstructed now that the walls have opened. It leaves them high above the ground, and there’s only a long drop down, one the Shadow seems unafraid of as it backs up towards the edge closest to the tower.

“You’re not me,” Yamano says, and it sounds raw, like it’s not the first time. She hasn’t looked behind her to see them, doesn’t even seem interested.

“But I am you,” the Shadow goads, basking in the light of the tower as the wind blows her short hair around her face, yellow eyes illuminated. “We’re all you, and we’re all watching. We see how he doesn’t love you. We know that you’re a fraud, a gold-digger. You want privacy? You want to be left alone? You’re addicted to the spotlight, and that’s the price you pay.”

With another choked sound, Yamano buries her head in her hands again, and as much as Yu wants to run forward and put a hand on her shoulder—because in all his loops, he’s not sure if he’s ever seen someone crumple like this—he knows it’s futile. This is the nature of events, this is the order. Denial, acceptance. There’s nothing that can be done.

Despite their pleas for her to face it, they go unnoticed by the real thing as she denies and denies again. “You’re not me.”

“The real world is so evil,” the Shadow continues, the spotlight moving to shine directly at its back, casting the room in another, different eerie yellow glow that matches the Shadow’s eyes, haloing its body as it begins to levitate low to the ground, skirt blowing in the breeze. “They made you into a spectacle, a freakshow. They took the one good thing you had and turned it against you, and yet you dance for them anyway, night after night, like the perfect little talking head you are. You hate the real world anyway, so why not give it up?”

“I don’t.” There’s no way of knowing what took place before this, just how close to the brink the Shadow has already pushed her, but it can’t be long now. She’s almost at her breaking point, that much is clear by the crack in her voice as she says, again, “You’re not me.”

This seems to be enough, because the Shadow laughs loud and piercing as it floats higher and higher up off the ground, the spotlight carrying it up to the top of the tower. The light bends to place it on the guard deck, the clouds parting for it to look down on them. It grins and taps its fingers on the side of the railing as the ivy across the tower twists and distorts into a face, pointed and mean with 8 sets of eyes that sprout up from its leaves, its mouth parting to teeth of static. It bends and flows with organic energy, and from up high, the Shadow produces what looks like a tower guard’s sniper rifle, distorted and glitching with the same static as the rest of this world.

As the others process what they’re seeing, Yu stands his ground. As striking and disturbing as the visuals are, he’s seen too much in the past few days for it to surprise him in the same way. What does surprise him, however, is that Adachi moves to attend to the real Yamano before Yu can even command someone to, anticipating her collapse from the stress of the Shadow’s transformation by grabbing at her arms and pulling her to the back of the room before stepping up with the rest of them to the edge of the room to stare the tower down.

The battle goes quickly, but they always do when they work together well, and Adachi fits in like a glove. Yu missed the feeling of having a full party at his side—people to strategize with and move as he sees fit—and Adachi provides the perfect counter to him, acting and reacting in a way similar to his own instincts. The Shadow attacks from a distance; the tower uses the vines as whips that tangle around their limbs while Yamano’s Shadow shoots rounds high from its vantage point above. It’s a combination that proves irritating for his party’s still somewhat limited options, but once the tower goes down, it's only a matter of time. He instructs Chie and Yosuke to attack its base while he and Adachi focus on Yamano, and soon enough, after chipping away it gives a labored, cutting groan as it crumbles down to half its size, and with it, Yamano’s Shadow screams and clutches at the rails for its balance.

“It’s so much nicer here,” it says after it regains its step on the tower’s slanted platform, turning the staticy gun over in its hands before lazily shooting down a series of bullets that Yosuke easily dodges at his feet. “It was so quiet down here, until you brats came along. No one to judge me, no one watching me. Just the silence.”

Despite the way it projects its voice, it’s on its last legs, and Yu feels his knuckles clench. It’s Adachi that gets the last strike: a bolt of thunder that crumples the tower fully to the ground and floats the body of Yamano’s Shadow back to the apartment floor along with it.

Slowly, with a clang, the iron bars that surround the apartment complex lower, and from the back of the room, the real Yamano blinks awake. The Shadow climbs to its feet across from her, wounded but still emanating a surprisingly fierce energy for a Shadow that was relatively easy to defeat.

“You’re not me.” She still hasn’t acknowledged anyone else in the room, even standing right next to them. Up closer, her eyes almost seem cloudy, dazed still from the impact, and Yu wonders what it would take to get her to notice, if anything.

“You have to accept it,” Yosuke says, gentle. He’s always been a little bit better at this part than Yu is. “Or it’ll attack again.”

“You’re not me.” Yamano shakes her head, but she remains on the floor, and that’s still all the acknowledgement she gives. “You’re not…”

With a snap, the Shadow disappears into a pile of dust, and Yamano collapses back onto the wooden floor, cheek pressed into the ground. And it’s quiet.

Denial, acceptance. That’s how it works. But the Shadow is still gone, and Mayumi Yamano…

Yosuke looks at Yu, and it takes him a moment to acknowledge it—a moment that’s apparently long enough for Adachi to move in his place, cutting into Yosuke’s line of vision to nod at him and follow to where he’s standing over Yamano’s body. Yosuke reaches under her arms and Adachi moves to pick up her legs. Yu could have carried her on his own, and isn’t sure why he didn’t move first, other than the fact that he’s been rooted in place staring at the space her Shadow left behind since it disappeared, counting the rubble in its wake. Still, when they move to the exit, he follows.

Stepping up close to Adachi, he eyes the tear in his jacket the healing spells can’t patch and asks, “Are you good?”

“Are you kidding?” Adachi just looks at him like he can’t believe he’d have the nerve to ask him something so stupid, and laughs, incredulous. He slides his eyes away as he talks, but what Yu manages to catch of them, they look honest. Clear. More than anything he saw earlier, despite the way he’s still forcing his voice, just slightly. “We got Yamano back, didn’t we? You really saved my ass here, you know.”

For the first time in a long time, he has hope he might be right.

Chapter Text

The second time underneath the bright Junes umbrellas as a unit of four is smoother than the first—but that doesn’t mean everyone has fully adjusted to each other.

He’s not one to dismiss marked improvements where they're found though: Yosuke and Chie look a bit more at ease with the man across from them, and Adachi himself looks less like a fish out of water. Still, he pulls at the knot of his tie, brushing his knuckles against the hollow of his throat and rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he coughs and waits for Chie and Yosuke’s attention to slide back to him.

Yu and the others have been sitting here for a good minute—they’re on break between years officially now, so they’ve had all day to kill—but Adachi has only just now slid up, still slightly sweaty from his hasty journey from the station and a bit disheveled after what Yu can be sure has been a long shift. Even with Yamano returned, and a great weight off Adachi’s shoulders, dealing with a returned missing person is its own bureaucratic nightmare. He’s spent the day itching for news, leg bouncing underneath the Junes table as they ate lunch, and restless all through their walk through the Shopping District earlier in the afternoon, ever since Adachi had texted him that morning.

We’re taking her statement today, he’d said, presumably in stolen minutes away from Dojima as they took their morning coffee, judging by the time. I’ll tell you later what happened. 4:30?

Yu agreed to the time without a second thought and passed it on down the line, deciding to meet with Yosuke and Chie earlier in the day to keep his thoughts occupied from at least some of what is rattling around inside his head. And rattle it did, even amid their chatter, with images of just what could be occurring on the other side of town. Statements could be long—more likely than not, no matter what time Yu checked in with himself, he could imagine they’re still in that small office, Dojima sitting across from an anxious Mayumi Yamano as Adachi paces in the background, clipboard of notes in hand as they go through questions and endless paperwork.

Judging by the exhaustion now rimming Adachi’s sunken eyes under the afternoon light, Yu can only guess it took about as long as in his imagination, if not longer. That, or the lecture he got from Dojima over the whole affair was even more cutting today than normal. Either way, from the few inches that separate them, Yu feels the tension of the day roll off of him in waves. Adachi takes a long sip of his soda before he sighs, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand.

“Man, they told me this town would be easy,” Adachi whines, flicking the moisture from his wrist with a limp wave. Yosuke shifts back a little in his seat, bringing his own drink with him while Chie just stares, sipping with her elbows and eyebrows propped up. “This case is way too complicated already, I thought Dojima would never let me go.”

Chie laughs at that, a single hearty ‘ha,’ straightening up enough to cross her legs up on the bench. “You’re telling us.”

Yu just takes a slow sip of his own drink and listens, willing the impatient tap of his fingers against his thigh to still by taking his cup with both hands and letting the cool condensation drip over his fingers. Adachi gives his own curt laugh at that, and it catches in his throat when it’s forced out to hit two different, dissonant notes, masked in his drink.

“Your uncle locked us in that room for eight hours,” Adachi bemoans, looking out at all of them as he talks, even though there’s only one of them that sentence applies to. “Do you know how hungry I was by the end of it? He wouldn’t even let us take a real lunch break.”

Yu has to fight a smile at that, not because it’s amusing, but because it’s so predictable. As if on cue, a voice from the counter calls out the number that matches the little placard Adachi had placed on their table when he arrived. Yu watches behind his hand as Adachi scans over each of them slowly, and when none of them move to stand, he sighs, and slinks over to the counter himself. It’s not a long walk, but Yu waits until he’s in proper ear-shot again to say, “I had a feeling it might go like that.”

He places the plate of steak vaguely in the center, but conspicuously closest to himself and farthest from Chie. That doesn’t stop her from immediately reaching over and grabbing a piece, and Adachi is new, true, but really, he should know better. Yu takes his own piece, a smaller one off to the side, and leans on his elbow.

“What did you have to talk about for eight hours?” Chie asks with a curl of her nose, barely waiting to swallow before she speaks. Adachi responds to her and Yu’s insolence by taking three pieces of his own, placing them indelicately in his mouth one by one with a frown. “At least tell us you learned something, then.”

Unlike Chie, he does at least get it all down before he speaks again. “Well, the problem is we didn’t.”

Yosuke, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet until now, scoots closer, observing Adachi from across the table with significantly less apprehension than the first time. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, we didn’t,” Adachi repeats, as if that elaborates on everything. They wait expectantly for him to continue; he does so reluctantly after another slice of beef and long drink, gazing between each of them as he does. Yosuke takes a piece while he’s occupied. “Or maybe I should say what we learned is that we don’t know anything, because she doesn’t remember anything.”

Yu runs his nail underneath the seam of his paper cup, crossing his legs and turning towards him in his seat. “Anything?”

Just as Adachi’s eyes rest on Yu’s, they narrow into something tight and bemused, and Yu can almost hear the ‘isn’t that what I just said.’ He turns his focus back towards the group. “Anything at all. And Dojima didn’t like that answer, so that’s why it took eight hours.”

Before anyone else can cut in, Adachi takes the point this time, holding up a hand as he snags another slice of beef and chews thoughtfully, placing his chin in the crux of his thumb and index finger. When he finishes, he adds, “I found it hard to believe, too, but she seems genuine. The last thing she remembers is getting up to turn the TV on after I stepped out—which, by the way, thanks for that, I’m still getting my ass handed to me—and then next thing she knows, she was waking up in the back of a squad car and I had to make up some bull…”

Despite the fact that he swore earlier in that very same sentence, he seems to remember his audience, grimacing and taking another sip of his drink, casting his eyes to Yu as if to make sure he didn’t miss the dig specifically at him. For Yu’s part, he at least has the grace to look guilty, offering an uneven apologetic smile before glancing away, switching the cross of his legs.

“I had to make up some fake story about finding her outside around the back of Junes.” Adachi rolls his eyes just quick enough for Yu to see up close. “For our sake, we’re lucky she doesn’t remember anything. If she started talking about a world inside a TV, Dojima might have kept me there for days.”

Yosuke nods, but puts a hand to his jaw and shakes his head once, almost like he’s thinking it to himself before he speaks up. “But we still don’t know how she got into the TV.”

“Right,” Adachi drawls, nasally and high as he points his cup at Yosuke in acknowledgment. “Which is still a problem for you guys, and the police too, don’t get me wrong.”

“Right,” Yu repeats, noting the small wrinkle between Adachi’s eyebrows with a small frown of his own. “Hence the eight hours.”

Bracing himself on the table, Adachi looks furtively over each shoulder, casting his eyes over the Junes food court with a conspicuous press of his lips before pulling in close and gesturing for the rest to follow, masking one side of his lips with his hand. “I’m not supposed to tell you guys this, but,” he begins, glancing between each of them with something suspiciously close to a spark in the corner of his eyes, despite the serious fall of his face. “Dojima’s still pretty bothered by it. He’s considering looking into it as an active kidnapping case.”

“Oh,” Chie says, in exaggerated stage-whisper. “Wow.”

Gears start to turn in Yu’s head, so he just nods and says, quietly, “I see.”

“Damn,” Yosuke whistles, low. He’s the first to lean back, wrapping his hands around the edge of the table as a thoughtful line falls across his brow. “I guess that makes sense, but that’s pretty serious.”

Adachi puts a finger to his lips and rounds his shoulders, wincing. “Don’t tell anyone. I’m already on thin enough ice as it is.”

Chie scoffs at that and takes another piece of meat, completely unreserved about it. “We haven’t told anyone anything. We already made that promise.”

A pang of guilt tugs at Yu’s chest again at the tension behind those words, but as much as Yu empathizes with her, and as much as he struggles with exactly how much to trust it, there’s still the calendar always floating in the back of his mind’s eye. He tries to remain neutral as he backs her up. “We take it seriously, don’t worry.”

Adachi’s the last to lean back, and he only does so once he appraises them each one last time, crossing his arms and legs as he does so. “Sure, sure, whatever you say.” He snatches up the remaining few pieces of beef before Chie can finish reaching her hand over again, pulling it over all the way towards him to finish.

“So,” Yosuke sighs, swirling the ice in his drink. “We’re back at square one. Let’s continue to keep an eye on the Midnight Channel.”

“Of course,” Yu agrees, nodding as he glances out of the corner of his eyes to check that Adachi does the same. He does, but it’s longer to come, and a bit curt. “Whatever’s going on, it’s far from over.”

Yosuke and Chie look at him resolutely, like they understand what that means, and Yu just looks back, tongue tied once again by the chasm between what he knows and what they think he means—but that’s nothing new.

Only so much of this is.

With his feet in the cold, stark water of the river, Yu Narukami looks up at the fading pink in the afternoon sky, and breathes.

It’s been long—too long—since he was here last, so caught up in the whirlwind of the past few days and weeks that he’s hardly had time to pause, so when Marie grabbed his arm on his way home from visiting Kanji and his mother at the textile shop, with the suggestion of making their way down to the riverbank, no amount of exhaustion could make Yu say no. It’s been too long since he’s seen her, even longer since he’s seen her in this world, and despite all the questions he has for her, it’s clear from the way she marches them down the flood plain, without hardly a word, that isn’t what this conversation will be about. Yu finds he’s fine with that. More than fine, even. The second he joins her in sliding off his shoes, the frigid rush of the river shocks his system and jolts him awake, like a fog he’s been walking under has lifted to leave him completely here, grass underneath his hands at her side.

Marie sheds her outer jacket and hat to run a hand through her hair, something Yu doesn’t think he’s ever really seen her do. She leans back on her palms and stares up at the sky with him, the sun long behind the trees and out of their vision. He joins her, but instead of sitting up on his elbows, he allows himself to lower fully to the grass, rubbing at his eyes and blinking in the hues above.

After what could be minutes in silence, just letting the river flow over their feet, Marie finally speaks. “It’s pretty different, huh?” she asks, softer than he expects. Yu knows what she’s talking about, he thinks, so he just hums. “It’s weird. I’ve known it’s been different, duh, but it's really different for you lately. It seems like it came out of nowhere.”

Yu definitely knows what she’s talking about. “I haven’t caught up with it, either.”

Marie shifts and turns, peering down at him like she’s trying to read something off his face. He has no idea what she’ll find there, himself, so he just looks up at her. Whatever it is, she finds it, tilting her head back up to the sky. “I don’t think you ever could have gotten him to do this, before.”

Yu mulls over the implications of that. “I didn’t realize you still saw all the befores.”

“I got filled in.” The wind pulls through her hair, and Marie shrugs. “Velvet Room movie nights. You know how it goes.”

He doesn't know, but he decides he doesn’t want to. “I’m sure that was entertaining.”

She looks at him and laughs, black hair swinging across her face. It fades within a few seconds, her face softening in the pinks and oranges as something a bit more thoughtful takes over, fingers lightly tapping against the grass. Yu closes his eyes for a moment and listens to the wind through the trees, only opening them when she speaks again.

“I have the knowledge of all of it, I should say,” she clarifies, watching Yu as she places her cap back on her head, shaking out her bangs. “You’re kind of an idiot, you know. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Yu exhales, fast and humorless even though he means to laugh. “More people maybe should.”

Something tickles at his feet, and Yu pushes up to see a trout swimming down the river just past his legs, colorful scales glistening underneath the clear surface of the water. He watches it weave through the rocks as it makes its way downstream until it’s out of sight, but stays sitting up, adjusting so he can look in case another passes by.

“You’ve proven doing the same thing over and over again is insanity, that’s for sure.” Yu doesn’t have to look back to feel the roll of Marie’s eyes. She scoots forward into his periphery anyway, leaning on her elbow as her signature black and white arm warmer droops down past her wrist. “But you’re not doing the same thing anymore. I’ll give you credit, you said you wanted to save people, and you’ve at least saved someone. So that’s new.”

There’s something about it that still doesn’t feel real, the sight of Yamano’s still-breathing body being carried out of the TV world seared behind his eyelids without any of the feeling of reality that’s supposed to come with it. He remembers it already in bursts and vignettes even though only days have passed since; there are imperfect gaps in his memory left by the passage between worlds where the details and transitions blur, and it’s never frustrated him quite this much. It feels like a vision of something that’s happened to someone else, too different yet uncannily similar to how he’s always dreamt it that the pieces are difficult to fit together now that they’re manifest. Adachi was never the one to carry her out, in his fantasies. He was never there at all.

“I never thought I’d get this far,” he admits after a long silence she’s patient to let him take. The water clears his thoughts like dust off a shelf to leave them exposed clean in the light, it always does. “I spent so long getting nowhere I can barely trust it. I feel like if I let my guard down, something else will fall.”

Marie hums, and something about it draws Yu’s eyes up towards her, and he finds her blinking back at him, soft and quizzical, like she’s trying to understand something she can’t quite grasp in its entirety. She smiles, small and uneasy, but it’s sincere, and it warms the center of Yu’s chest, gone cold from the water and increasing chill of the coming evening air. “Yeah, maybe.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be as touched by her uneven attempts at comfort as he is, but the intent of it strikes him. Before he can respond, she adds, “But, hey, you’ve at least done something. As far as I’m concerned, getting that ray of sunshine to put up with your friends is just as much of an accomplishment as anything. That’s the most unbelievable part to me.”

His lips quirk at that, pushing the grass through his fingers as he lets the words wash over him, mulling over each in an attempt to formulate a reply, stubbornly unsure if it’s the most unbelievable part for him or not. But before he can get his lips to catch up with his thoughts, he hears the sound of his own name cut through the quiet of the floodplain, shattering the quiet like a rubber hammer.

“Yu!” The voice is unmistakably Yosuke, excited and bold over top of the trees. Yu twists around to see him approach down the road, flanked by Yukiko and Chie on either side. “See, I told you guys he would be here,” he says to them, and even though he’s lowered his voice, it carries over the plain just as clearly.

He meets Marie’s eyes and smiles, tight-lipped and sheepish, attempting not to look too grateful for the out before pulling from the river and standing with a little wave. He opts to carry his shoes rather than slide them back on, letting the grass dry his feet as he waits for their approach. Marie is more reluctant to rise, but eventually follows up at his side.

“I’ve been texting you like crazy,” Yosuke calls as he bounds down the hill, lightly tapping Yu’s shoulder with his fist when he arrives. Yu does a good show of rubbing at it, even though it doesn’t hurt in the least. “Oh! This is your friend… Marie, right?”

It’s amazing how quickly her guards can go up around his friends, when Yu has hardly ever had to witness them on his own. She crosses her arms with a scoff, kicking at the ground with her bare feet as she says, “That’s me.”

“We were about to go get skewers,” Yukiko explains, and at the sound of her voice, Yu realizes with a tug how much he’s missed lately. She and Chie follow down the hill a bit slower, taking it at a respectable pace as opposed to Yosuke almost tripping over himself en route. She smoothes her skirt out at the bottom. “You should both join us.”

Marie looks between Yu and the others, picking at the edge of her arm-warmer with a bit of her bottom lip between her teeth. Yu gives her an encouraging, subtle smile, nodding. “That sounds great.”

Her face goes red beneath her hand, but the promise of steak is already starting to whittle away at her defenses. Marie speaks from behind her fingers, looking away out towards the river as she mutters, “Sure.”

They take the stairs back up, and Yu waits until Marie moves to follow. She catches his eyes with a glance that’s both an acknowledgment that the conversation’s unfinished, and a resignation that it will almost certainly stay that way for a while. Still, there’s a glint there, something almost close to begrudging pride, and it’s the closest thing to approval he figures he’ll ever get on this.

The sun is fading low in the streaking sky. The stars are just beginning to peek out of the patches of darker blue streaming through the horizon, and as they make their way up the stairs, Yu can hear the sounds of crickets and Chie drawing Marie into her conversation with Yukiko. It’s warm, and getting warmer still, and as he looks at his friends’ backs in the glow of mid-spring he feels, for the first time in a long time, something dangerously, curiously close to hope.

April rolls into Inaba like a river downstream.

Yu makes dinner most nights—something simple with easy ingredients he can stretch. As precocious as Nanako is in the kitchen, it’s better than what she could make on her own, and if Yu can at all help it, he has no interest in abetting Dojima’s agenda of having her run the house. Yu has two hands and a rice cooker; he can do that himself.

Dojima has been home late every night since Mayumi Yamano disappeared, nevermind since her reappearance. The break from school has awarded him more time than normal to spread out between his social appointments, giving him the chance to come home and spend time with Nanako. He’s taken up a job at the daycare, lately, so the time for recovery has proven necessary.

It’s the first week of April, and he’s just returned from Junes with a plus-one in tow. He found Adachi meandering the produce aisles after being released from work early, on what Yu can only assume is some combination of good behavior and Dojima’s own exhaustion with him. It took surprisingly minimal coercing to convince him to give up on instant noodles and join Yu and Nanako for stir fry instead, with Adachi’s tired eyes folding in record time and even offering Yu a ride back in his car for the trouble.

Nanako is thrilled with the addition, whisking him away to the living room before Adachi can hardly get off his shoes at the door. He waves to Yu half-heartedly before he takes a seat at the kotatsu after her, leaving Yu to unbag the groceries as he watches from the kitchen. He hides a smile behind a container of strawberries and the fridge door as Nanako insists on turning on the news despite Adachi’s assertions his job is the news. Nanako will win, she always does, and just as Adachi had folded on Yu in coming here, he’s even faster to give into Nanako’s wishes, not even pretending to fight her for the remote.

After cleaning up, Yu gets to work on setting up the vegetables for prep. He watches as Adachi asks Nanako a question under his breath, to which she responds by pointing to the storage area under the TV, where the games are kept. Most are dusty board games they probably haven’t played since Nanako’s mother passed—Yu makes a mental note to break them out once his group begins to grow—but there’s a deck of cards right on top when Adachi opens the door, and he grabs it without hesitation. Nanako looks on delightedly as he makes a show of shuffling the deck like a professional dealer, his casual and practiced wrist motions creating the perfect bridge over and over as he shuffles the cards, and her enthusiasm is infectious as Yu gets to work on chopping up a carrot.

It’s surprisingly simple to have a night like this. As much as Adachi griped in the car here about wanting some time alone, really, he only has so much, there’s a smile twitching at his lips as he demonstrates a simple trick for Nanako, to her furious clapping and insistence he teach her how, and it breaks temporarily into something real as he moves to do so. This is how it goes: Adachi guiding Nanako’s hand while Yu readies a pan with oil for the chopped vegetables and starts the rice, the sound of her laughter and his teasing instructions filling the room far over the dull hum of the weather report on the TV.

It takes her several tries, and ample gentle ribbing from Adachi, but finally, she’s able to pull out the right card, and even though she imperfectly hides the tell of the trick, Adachi gives her a little round of applause anyway before pulling a card out from behind his own ear and laughing at her indignation, mixing high with the sound of sizzling.

Once Nanako has grown frustrated with the behind-the-ear trick, she pads into the kitchen just as Yu is finishing up the sauce, pouring it over the sauteed vegetables and filling the room with the sweet and salty scent of glazed soy. She peers wide-eyed at the food on the stove with an approving nod, remarking, “Wow! There are so many different vegetables!”

Yu takes a carrot from the pan and carefully blows on it before handing the stirring spoon to Nanako to try. “Are there? I tried to find a good variety.”

“We just started a garden at school,” Nanako explains before peeling the carrot off and handing the spoon back, taking a bite and giving a happy hum. “It’s a lot of fun! They said once it grows, we can take some home.”

Maybe it’s just Yu, but Adachi has to feel it even from across the room too, the way her energy brightens the room whenever joy truly strikes her. It’s been rarer and rarer these nights, with the solitude from her father’s work schedule clearly getting to her, so seeing it light up across her face soothes something in him now. From where he’s sitting at the kotatsu, Yu catches Adachi trying not to look, but he just lingers there, trying to convey there’s no harm in listening.

“We could start a garden here, too,” Yu explains as he gives the vegetables a stir, gesturing towards the side of the house with his shoulder. “Now that the ground is starting to thaw, we have a plot that would be perfect if we went out and fixed it up.”

Her eyes light up like a fluorescent bulb, sparking up something in Yu’s chest. Nanako tugs at Yu’s wrist, lightly. “Can we really?”

“Of course,” Yu promises. “It won’t take long at all, especially with extra help. Right?”

Across the room, Adachi’s rising to his feet with a yawn and staring at Yu like he’s sold him out, which he has, until he moves to the kitchen and catches sight of the unbridled excitement in Nanako’s eyes and softens. He rounds the half-divider and asks, sheepish, “Now?”

“Really?” Nanako looks between them rapidly, brows rising with each pass.

Yu just smiles as he turns to look over his shoulder and replies, “Why not? It’s the perfect time, and the vegetables still needs to cook. If Adachi doesn't mind, that is.”

Adachi squirms, standing awkwardly with two sets of eyes trained right on him. Nanako just inches forward, blushing as she uses her most polite tone, one normally reserved for adults she doesn’t know nearly as well. “Can you? Please?”

Whatever part of Adachi that looks like it wants to object folds like a paper crane into creases of resignation, and his assent is barely out of his lips before Nanako’s exclamation of excitement fills the room. Adachi faces her with a lopsided smile, pinched at the corners, but it smoothes over the longer he meets Nanako’s unrelenting grin, twitching into something that seems to take his face organically.

“Well,” he hedges, a little bit of weariness at the corners of his eyes that he blinks away fast into amusement before Yu can properly catalogue it. “Since the little lady asked so nicely.”

After Yu turns the vegetables down, he helps Nanako slip into a light jacket as Adachi shrugs on his own yellow hoodie, threadbare and beloved after all this time. It’s a little too warm for the jacket Yu bought him, as much as he loves to see it, but he finds himself stubbornly fond of this garish piece of outerwear as well, if only because it strikes Yu as so him, in a way. It’s charming, despite itself.

He leads them out to the side of the house, and the plot isn’t even in the state of disrepair it normally is, given Yu has normally left it until summer if he’s touched it at all. It was serendipitous for Nanako to bring the subject up—it’s crossed his mind once or twice, but having the excuse to actually start it earlier than he’s ever gotten to is exciting, and not only for the potential of a higher vegetable yield. He’s always found himself calmed by the work of it, the pull of the shovel, the soil beneath his hands and the gentle work of raising each plant from seed, even if his green thumb doesn’t come quite as natural as the one that casts his fishing line.

The edge of where the plot used to be is visible from the mound of dirt unceremoniously piled up in the center of the grass, but the bricks Dojima bought about a year ago in an ambitious fit of home improvement are lovingly stacked up at the edge of the yard, ready and waiting to be laid. At the sight of it, Adachi makes a face, but smoothes it over the second Nanako bounds out the patio door after them, pushing his lips upwards as he surveys the yard.

Yu finds two regular sized shovels in the garden shed, plus a smaller pink one clearly meant for Nanako, and brings them all out, setting them all against the house. He explains to a rapt Nanako, and an Adachi picking at his ear, to level out the dirt around the perimeter Yu will start to create. Nanako snatches her shovel and immediately gets to work, digging the side of it into the dirt with gusto and smoothing out a section with a back and forth sweep, leveling the dirt side to side.

“Like that,” Yu offers. He hands Adachi his, who takes it as if it might sprout vines and start growing over his fingers. Yu just smiles back and makes his way to the other side of the plot, gesturing to where Nanako is standing. Adachi follows and stares down at the dirt, pushing it side to side with his shovel.

Quietly, just loud enough for Yu to hear with Nanako comfortably occupied and out of earshot, Adachi mutters, “You’re lucky I’m getting a free dinner out of this.”

“You’ll be able to eat them too,” Yu offers. He thinks he has something else to add to that, but he stops to blink at Adachi only to find him pushing sweat-slicked bangs out of his face, and he forgets what it might be. He doesn’t realize he’s been staring until Adachi catches him and curls his nose in confusion, and Yu shakes his head, setting a brick down on the edge of the dirt pile and smoothing out the soil closest to him with his hand.

“Do I have something on my face?” Adachi asks, rolling up his sleeves and pushing some dirt in the direction of where Yu’s working. He’ll hardly have to do any of his half at the rate Nanako’s going—this is the easy part, and Yu’s making quick work of the hard part, shuffling on his knees to have one side almost completed by the time he manages to answer.

“Your hair just looks good like that,” Yu answers, speaking down at his hands rather than up at Adachi’s face. He lays down the corner bricks, continuing on down the line.

“Oh,” Adachi says, like he doesn’t quite know how to react to that. “Huh.”

With three people on the job, it doesn’t take long at all. The timer Yu had set for the rice goes off just as he lays the last sets of bricks, the dirt long smoothed over with Nanako and Adachi’s combined efforts. Yu wipes his hands on his pants and stands back to observe the results of their labor, having transformed the unsightly pile of dirt into the fledglings of what could pass as a garden in thirty minutes flat.

“Is it ready to plant seeds in yet?” Nanako asks, leaning on her shovel as she appraises Yu’s work underneath the waning late afternoon sun, fallen slightly in the horizon since they’d first come outside.

“Almost,” Yu assures, setting his own tools back down near the side of the fence and taking Adachi’s from his outstretched hand as well, figuring he can hardly get away fast enough. “We can do that after dinner. In the meantime, shall we eat?”

He doesn’t even need to look over to know they’re immediately on board with that plan. The sound of the patio door opening says it all, and Nanako follows them back inside, bounding on her feet in barely-contained excitement.

Once inside, she grabs three sets of bowls and chopsticks before Yu can even command Adachi to do it in her stead. He takes his seat down at the kotatsu and while Yu and Nanako putter about in the kitchen setting up the serveware, the nightly news fills the room.

“After her harrowing experience, Mayumi Yamano intends to return to a quiet life,” the anchor says, following up on the only main story they’ve had as of late. “As such, we are thrilled to announce Ms. Yamano will be joining our team here at her hometown station of Yasoinaba Channel 4, starting next week.”

“Isn’t that cool, Big Bro?” Nanako pipes up, as she carries her stack of bowls to the table with only a small wobble. “I’m glad they found her.” She sets them down on the table carefully, turning back to Yu who follows with the bowls of rice and vegetables in hand. Adachi at least has the nerve to seem a tinge apologetic for not helping when he looks up.

Adachi meets Yu’s eyes over the top of her head while he sets down the bowls. “Looks good.”

“Thanks,” he says, and Adachi’s lips pinch like he’s laughing at a joke only he’s privy to. Yu faces Nanako, and replies, “I’m glad, too.”

He takes a seat across from Adachi, listening to the TV continue in a drone about the mysterious details of her brief disappearance. It doesn’t take long for Nanako to give her awed verdict, exclaiming, “This is delicious! I bet it’d be even better with our vegetables!”

At the other side, Adachi pushes a bit of rice and pepper onto his chopsticks, bowl held close to his face like a stray dog, which is approval as far as Yu is concerned. He smiles around a bite of carrot, and decides Nanako is correct on all accounts.

When they finish their servings and Yu gets up to clean and make leftovers, Adachi hovers around the kitchen like a too-big fly, not so much helpful as he is simply present in Yu’s space. That’s just as well—his little chatter with Nanako provides a lovely background noise to sectioning off bento boxes, including one for Adachi himself, and it makes the work go by quick.

Back out by the side of the house under the streetlights, there's just enough light to see, and thankfully, all that really needs to be done is for the seed to be spread and a handful of holes to be dug—something that should take even less time than the first time. After a few minutes of snooping around in a cobweb-covered shelf on the side of the house, he finds two dusty packages of summer squash, and that will do for now. He’ll buy more seeds at Junes later.

There’s a little trowel on the same shelf from earlier, so he pads over to grab it, dusting off the cobwebs thoroughly before handing it to Nanako, who takes it with reverence. Before he can deliver instructions, Nanako takes her trowel and starts digging at the first row, grunting with the effort of moving the dirt but creating a neat pocket as she does.

“Just follow her lead,” Yu laughs. He hands Adachi a trowel before making his way to the opposite side of the small lot with his own tool. “Go on her side, we’ll meet in the middle.”

Helping Nanako seems to be the perfect distraction for Adachi’s palpable distaste of manual labor, because for all he shows Yu, he’s careful to keep his emotions in check around her; or perhaps, just like everyone else, her presence in general melts his irritation like ice. Either way, he proposes a race with her to the center, and Yu hides a laugh behind the sleeve of his shirt at how Nanako nearly collides into him in her determination to beat him there, and again when he baits her into an impassioned argument about who got there first. He gives up on trying to hide his amusement when it works the second and third time, and it makes his own work go by faster, finding himself about as fast as the two of them combined. They encroach on the center in no time at all, and when there’s about three rows left to dig, Adachi taps Nanako on the shoulder and points at Yu.

“Let’s race him,” Adachi crouches down to stage-whisper in her ear like a coach in a boxing movie as Nanako gives a very serious nod to complete the picture. “We can take him.”

Yu places his trowel at the top of the row with his knee bent at the ready, and Adachi scrambles to the other side of the plot to start opposite Nanako on the same row, Yu waiting until he’s also in position to speak. “On my mark.”

When he hits go, it’s a flurry of dirt, trowels and soil flying as Yu takes the row at a sprint, careful to eye their progress out of the corner of his eye. Combined, they’re quick, and Yu just barely beats them to starting on the last row, but once Nanako and Adachi meet in the middle, Adachi whispers something in her ear and she hops over the trench of soil to cut in front of Yu, laughing as she runs to make the rest of the ditch before he can get there.

He’s happy to let her, especially when he sees the look of victory on her face as she lifts her trowel into the air and gives Adachi a high-five. Yu catches Adachi’s eyes and winks, but he’s still surprised when he winks back and laughs, ruffling Nanako’s hair despite her half-hearted protests. In consolation, Yu gives her a high-five too, and she brightens up immediately, grinning from ear to ear in pride.

“Want to plant these seeds with me?” he asks, pulling the bag of summer squash seeds out of his pocket to show her. Adachi peers down at them too from over her shoulder. “I’ll show you how.”

“They showed as at school,” she says, nodding. “But only a few kids got to hold them.”

Yu hands her the packet of seeds and says, “I’ll let you hold it, then.”

He leads her over to kneel down on the soil, and Adachi lingers awkwardly behind, standing over them like he doesn’t quite know if he’s supposed to follow. Yu looks over his shoulder and gestures towards the dirt, and only then does Adachi crouch down into a squat, still a few paces away but at least close enough to hear and see. After a few seconds of silence, Nanako follows his eyes and gestures for Adachi to come in closer, and he relents, scooting in until he’s just behind and between the two of them.

Yu helps Nanako count out the seeds for each, before guiding her hand to cover the plots up and smooth over the dirt. There’s a watering can near the shed, and after cleaning that off too, he gives it to Nanako to fill up in the kitchen before heading back over to sit by Adachi near the plot, crossing his legs.

“This is cute,” Adachi says, like the word is sticking on his tongue and it’s a bit of a labor to roll off, though his voice is bright. “You seem to really love her.”

Yu just blinks at him, because he doesn’t think he’s ever heard that particular observation from him before. “Of course I do.”

Adachi just hums at that like it’s fascinating, but there’s nothing else he says before Nanako comes bounding back out of the house, watering can in tow, and Yu’s focus is taken up by helping guide her hand the appropriate amount over each pocket of seeds. One by one, he watches the soil dampen, and on the last that’s slightly out of Yu’s reach from where he sits farthest away, he opts to hand it to Adachi instead of moving. Adachi takes it back over to share with Nanako as they water it, too, and with their work complete, Yu sits back and beams at the result. It’s a garden with imperfect rows and only a small patch of seeds, but he can’t help but think, in all of the loops, this is the nicest one they’ve ever built.

And it’s just in time for spring.

The rest of break passes in a blur, both too fast and too slow for his liking, and before he knows it, he’s shrugging on his Yasoinaba High uniform in the bathroom mirror on his second year of high school, again, on April 12th.

As the calendar ticks down to the day, part of him becomes convinced that maybe everything will start over again, that April 12th will be another April 12th too late to save, but when the day comes, it’s like any other. He wakes up in the same bed, with the same memories, presumably in the same life, and when he gets to school, he doesn’t have to re-explain to his friends who he is. The sigh of relief he lets out wracks his entire body, and it’s easy to pass off as a reaction to the fact all four of them have wound up in the same class again—at least until their infamous teacher enters the room and he has to, once again, play into the horror of pretending to discover Mr. Morooka’s particular brand of pedagogy. It’s an easier lie than many.

He doesn’t even have to re-introduce himself to Kanji Tatsumi or Naoki Konishi, both of whom see him pass in the hallways and give cautious waves when Yu passes, which he returns with a warm smile and nod. Even Saki Konishi seems to recognize him when he passes her in the third year wings. He’s more or less proved his permanence here, but he still struggles to believe it all through those first few desperate days, when Saki Konishi remains in her classes and Mayumi Yamano suits up for the Inaba nightly news, when the sun hangs longer and longer over the valley, and Yu experiences a sense of deja vu that keeps him nauseous whenever he stands up too fast.

Those days feel like forever when he’s in them, aching and long in a way he can’t explain to his well-meaning friends even when they pick up his dissociation, but they end with a snap by Friday night. As he and Nanako huddle around the TV for dinner, the Inaba nightly news focuses in on an all-too-familiar April location, one that immediately anchors him into the moment, all the inertia of the past few days catching up to reality with a deafening shift, and as twisted as it is, it’s a type of relief that leaves him buzzing with anticipation.

On the screen, the Amagi Inn stands tall and proud upon the hill in the background, and in the foreground, Yukiko Amagi is featured, face blurred, in the center with a pink kimono on. This shot is so familiar he could cry, and even though the contents of the interview aren’t the same—rather than the last known location of a dead woman, it’s simply a curiosity for the missing persons case and its young manager-to-be—the tone and the placement is identical to what he’s seen nearly two dozen times before, and it’s comforting in a way he didn’t expect.

He excuses himself early, and whittles away the hours until midnight listening to the tapping of rain on his window and basking in the cool breeze from the slight crack he’d left in it despite the moisture. When the time finally comes, he readies his phone in his hand for the calls he knows—hopes—will come, because he has a feeling that the nature of everything might hinge on this moment.

He counts down the seconds to midnight, and breathes. Slowly, the screen flickers to life, and although the yellowed-out shadow at the center is blurry, Yu’s heart races as he takes in the outlined shape, and just as his chest begins to stutter with recognition, his phone rings. He exhales into a laugh that’s masked by the time he answers.

“Narukami.” He’s braced for Yosuke, but it’s Chie on the other end of the line, voice shaking and breathy in the receiver. “I think it’s Yukiko. Don’t ask me how, but I know it is.”

Yu licks his lips, willing his voice to stay even as he replies. “I don’t know, but it looks like it might be.”

“What do we do?” Her voice breaks, and it cuts him. He’s never heard it this early before—although the loops blur together, especially this part, where his thoughts were usually still caught in the failure of Yamano and Saki, he doesn’t think she’s ever called him on the first night. “What if something happens to her, too?”

Yu stifles a sigh with his hand over the receiver, moving it only when he’s chosen his words carefully. “We just have to keep an eye on her. Make sure she gets home after school tomorrow.”

It takes her a moment, but eventually she relents. “Okay. I can do that.”

Another call tone interrupts whatever he was going to say in reply, and he pulls back to glance down at the screen before saying, apologetic, “Yosuke—”

“That’s okay,” she interrupts, forceful, and Yu believes it from her. He leans forward on his elbows, rubbing at his eyes and blinking at the picture on the screen. It’s so obvious, he’ll never understand how he didn’t see it the first time around, but practice has warped his perspective. “I need to call Yukiko. Just to make sure she’s alright.”

“Of course.” He knows she will be, but he still says it before accepting the call from Yosuke on the last ring, pushing a piece of hair behind his ear as he switches the hand holding up his phone.

“Hey, sorry,” Yosuke greets. Yu can practically hear the way he probably scratches at the back of his head when he says that, and he can all too easily imagine him pacing around his room right now. “I just realized you were probably on the phone with Chie.”

The wriggling lines of the television are starting to hurt his eyes, and he’s seen enough. He reaches over and turns the screen off, the white noise that comes with it immediately disappearing to leave only the rain and the static of the receiver in its place, conspicuously quiet. “It’s alright.”

“Who do you think that was?” Yosuke asks. Yu has to stifle a yawn with his fist from a combination of the hour and the fact that he’s now drawing into familiar territory, conversations he’s had before and scripts he has down to a T, insignificant aberrations of change over time aside.

“Chie thinks it’s Yukiko,” Yu offers, rising up from the couch to shut his blinds for the night. He stares out at the neighborhood for just a second as he does, streetlights glowing in the mist, and feels the light breeze carry in the last little bit of moisture before he shuts the window, too. “What do you think?”

Yosuke hums at that, long and low in his chest. “I don’t know. I hope it’s not.”

“Yeah,” Yu lies, boldly and right through his teeth. “Me neither.”

Time marches forward, and Yu has never been more relieved to march right along with it.

Chapter Text

Yu’s memorized the script for comforting Chie when she arrives in a hurried panic the next morning, unable to reach Yukiko.

This time, though, he deviates from his usual lines, because it feels wrong to be so rote when her fear feels realer to him than it has since the first loop. He lets her get it out and reassures her that she’s probably just busy with the Inn or woke up late, but it’s in one ear and out the other as always. The only thing that mitigates her terror is Yukiko’s voice when she finally answers her call, Chie exhaling low and hanging her head with the force of her relief.

Yu can't blame her. He has his own worries amid these developments that not even his familiarity can solve. In times like these, familiarity feels like the enemy, keeping him chained to old assumptions and anxieties he can’t shake, even in the face of so much change. He tries to fight the urge all day—he tells himself it’s ridiculous, that he has all the proof he needs of its ridiculousness within the past few weeks. It lasts until lunch before he finally breaks.

While Chie and Yosuke are preoccupied with bickering, Yu whips out his phone and texts Adachi, What are you doing after work?

It takes a few minutes, during which Yu spends trying not to squirm too obviously, but eventually the answer comes.

Nothing, the reply simply reads, and then a second later, Dojima’s gonna keep me late.

Yu glances up to see Chie and Yosuke still in a passionate battle over Yosuke’s last rice ball, so he types back, As late as him?

Nah, Adachi replies after a brief pause, and it’s funny, Yu thinks, how easy it is to read his texts in his voice. He had a slight inclination he might text informally, or in a wildly different tone, but through and through, he’s himself. It’s charming. Never.

Yu bites down on a corner of his bottom lip and brings the phone in closer out of reflex, glancing up and laughing at the appropriate time to act like he’s still watching Chie and Yosuke before he replies. Meet me at the house after. It’s about the other world.

Adachi takes far longer than necessary for his perfunctory reply of, Sure. Still, Yu takes it as an assent and slides his phone quickly back into his pocket, but despite his best efforts to be sly, he’s not quite fast enough.

“Who are you texting?” Yosuke leans back in his chair to peer over at Yu, defeated in his fight against Chie but looking none the worse for wear. His smile is curious and just a little bit devious as he grins and asks, “Is it a girl?”

“No,” Yu counters with a too-harsh snap of his jaw, hasty to disagree but immediately regretting the force of it. He rubs at his nose, breaking into his bento box of hand-rolled plum sushi he’d made with Nanako a few nights prior. “Just Dojima. I was wondering if he’d be home for dinner.”

Chie quirks a brow, taking a bite of her ill-gained rice ball with an ungraceful hum. “Isn't he like, never home for dinner?”

Yu shrugs and does his best to keep his face neutral. “I still like to check.”

Yosuke and Chie meet each other’s eyes for just a second, wordless, but that seems to be enough for them. They drop the subject and instead pivot to the much more comfortable territory of further hushed conjecture on the Midnight Channel, and that’s something Yu is happy to listen to. They don’t expect him to offer much, anyway, especially wrapped up with lunch, and it’s both a pleasant distraction from his own thoughts and a helpful gauge on where they are in the process.

The lack of a body has already begun to warp their understanding of it all: Yosuke has already gathered the potential connection between the channel and Mayumi’s disappearance given where they found her, but he doesn’t seem to share Chie’s immediate panic about Yukiko’s potential fate, given there’s only been one missing person to come of it.

There’s still too many differences too fast for him to trust his past experiences, for him to sleep soundly at night. His phone hangs heavy in his pocket; he’s aware of its weight and presence all through afternoon classes and in his bag across the field during soccer practice after school, but it stays silent.

His heart rate spikes when it finally buzzes later that evening, but it isn’t from Adachi at all. I’m grabbing dinner with Yukiko right now! Chie says. She’s safe!

That’s great, Yu replies, and he means it.

At the kotatsu over his own dinner with Nanako, Yu sighs and taps his phone against his chin, smiling with a quick dismissal when Nanako asks if anything’s wrong, because nothing is, and it would be ungrateful of him to act otherwise. Of course.

It’s only after he’s finished washing up the dishes from dinner that his phone buzzes again, and his heart hammers as he reads Adachi’s simple, I’m on my way.

His car rolls up just a few minutes later as Yu watches through the kitchen window, appreciating the serendipitous timing of just having sent Nanako to bed. Even if he could explain Adachi sneaking up to his room to her, the risk she might innocently repeat it to Dojima is too high, and that’s something Yu doesn’t want to touch with a twenty-acre pole.

Adachi’s own reaction to that proposition is enough to handle on its own as he stands in the living room, damp from the walk up to the front door dripping rainwater like a dog, and asks, deadpan, “What?”

Yu just blinks at him, hand curled around the entryway to the hallway and stairs, and cocks his head to the side. “I said, it’s up in my room.”

Adachi shakes his shoulders in a chill, like he’s clearing out cobwebs from his spine, and blinks right back, something about Yu’s words still not seeming to process right. “Why can’t we use the TV down here?”

Yu looks over his shoulder to where Adachi points, towards the family television playing the late night news on a whisper-low setting, and shrugs. “It only works on mine.”

Truth be told, he hasn’t tried it, but he has no interest in winding up somewhere and getting lost, or worse. There’s a time for calculated risk, and this is already enough of one. In the face of that, Adachi curls his lip, but seems to fight his way out of whatever stupor came over him, turning from Yu to unceremoniously shrug off his jacket and shoes with an unreadable expression.

Either way, when Yu heads up the stairs, Adachi follows him up with clunking steps, and Yu barely remembers to turn around and put a finger to his lips for the sake of Nanako. He’s quieter by a margin the rest of the way up, and silent as they make their way into Yu’s room.

Adachi stands against the door and takes it all in, arms crossed over his chest and shoulders pushed high up against his ears. His lips press together as his eyes pass over the room—his futon, his desk, his dusty second-hand couch and Persona 3 calendar covered in X’s—and Yu feels both like too much of a child and too much of an adult at the same time for any of it to impress him, not quite sure why that matters or what to do with his hands.

The moment passes quickly enough after Adachi peels his back from the door and says with a shrug, “So, what did you want to show me?”

He says the words so neutral and even that maybe Yu’s just imagining the tightness at the edges, but a shiver goes up his back at a chill from the open window, and he’s suddenly aware of how this must look from Adachi’s perspective, how strange a request this must seem. It’s too late to remedy that, so he crosses over to the TV, sinking his fingers into the surface just to test it before pulling them back out to face Adachi.

“You won’t be able to train with us most days, right?” Yu asks, leaning on the plastic frame of the TV. “Because of work.”

“Right,” Adachi agrees, arms still crossed. He examines Yu’s stack of books he can only loosely call a bookshelf, mouth in a small line. “As much as I’d love to waste my time hanging out with high schoolers.”

Yu shakes off the extra sting he puts behind that, continuing. “You’ll need a way to keep up.”

Adachi shifts his eyes up from where they’re meandering, sharp. “Ah, so this is what this is about,” he drawls, finally uncrossing his arms to place them loosely on his narrow hips. “You’re worried I’ll fall behind.”

His ability to twist words must serve him well as a detective. It takes some patience, but Yu offers a small smile, beckoning him closer with a wave of his wrist. Adachi eyes his hand warily, but follows in a few steps, glancing at the TV. “That’s not what I said.”

Adachi rolls his eyes at that, but Yu isn’t surprised he finds the difference a matter of semantics. Instead of letting him reply, Yu puts his hand to the TV again, his fingertips sinking all the way in. “You know how you tell us things Dojima wouldn’t want you to?”

If Adachi is bothered at all by being called out, he has a rather mild reaction, shrugging. “Sure.”

“This is something I’d rather the others didn’t know about,” Yu explains, his voice dropping low on reflex. Adachi has to lean in to hear it, close enough that his own fingers are braced on the edge of the television, resting on the plastic rather than the screen. “I promised them I wouldn’t come back here without them, but I think it’s our best option.”

There’s a moment of surprise before the lines around Adachi’s eyes smooth over into something close to amusement, and he puts his fingers through the surface of the television, swirling them in a circular motion through the static. “Whatever you say, leader.”

That’s as close to agreement as he’s going to get, he figures. “Follow me.”

There’s only room for one of them through the TV at a time, but without a precipitous drop down to a studio, it’s easy for Yu to crawl right onto the forest floor. It takes a few seconds, each of which Yu counts individually, but eventually, Adachi crawls through after him, his lips curling on the way out as his hands and knees hit dirt.

Yomi looks as it always does, perpetually caught in that sunset-or-twilight golden glow in dewpoint mist, fog rolling out through the trees and beckoning him forward into its depths. Yu crawls to his knees, and with a huff and some grumbling, Adachi follows, brushing dirt off of his suit and adjusting the already-messy fall of his hair before he looks out across the forest, his lips parting softly.

Yu is quiet for a moment as he lets him take it in, Adachi sending his gaze to and fro across the lines of trees. He hangs back while Adachi takes a stilted step forward, brows slightly furrowed as he puts a hand to one of the trees, the bark cracking beneath his fingers.

“What is this place?” Adachi asks, pinched like he’s trying to sound annoyed but mostly just sounds awed. Yu steps up to meet him at the edge of the forest, the fog lapping at their feet like a tide in the quiet.

“It’s called Yomi,” Yu replies, mentally flipping through what he’d brought to fight with and deciding it’ll do. He’s protecting one person this time, not two, and Adachi’s stronger to begin with, anyway, even if Yu still hedges he’ll do most of the work himself. “The beings we’ve been fighting, the Shadows? Well, most of them are here.”

Adachi scratches at the back of his head, looking up towards the sky where clouds and mist cover the low-hanging golden sun and up into a great grey abyss. Yu doesn’t like to look up, too much. It makes him dizzy. Adachi seems to decide the same within seconds, casting his gaze back down to the dirt floor where he’s kicking at a rock. “That’s convenient.”

Yu catches himself on an unformed syllable, swallowing it back only when he realizes the danger of his immediate reflex to comment on its newness. He flushes, hiding behind his hand to gather himself. Everything is supposed to be new, but it frightens him how easy it was to almost say it. “I thought so too,” he replies instead.

In response, Adachi just hums, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Take it away, leader.”

On the second time he says it, Yu still can’t decide if it’s better or worse than ‘kid,’ but he takes it anyway, reaching for his sword and hearing his footfalls against the foliage echo among the trees. He cranes over his shoulder once he passes Adachi to see if he’ll follow, catching him staring after him with an inscrutable expression before he takes a matching step.

“These are a lot stronger than what we’ve faced before,” Yu offers, following the familiar opening into the hull of the forest. True to his word, or rather more accurately, the pace of his schedule, it’s been weeks since he was here last and saw Marie, but he still remembers the pathway in like the back of his hand. “So stick by me and follow my lead.”

Yu can hear the soft rustle of Adachi’s clothes as he shrugs, which he figures is good enough. The sun shines through the trees, illuminating their bodies through layers of glistening mist floating around their feet and knees, and once again, Yu is enraptured by the eerie tranquility of the place, the rush of water and faint moans across the trees. He’s trained his eyes and ears to this place, but it still captures him with its surreal beauty, one he figures must be taking Adachi with its full force by how quiet he is as he walks after Yu without a word.

It’s not long until they run into their first Shadow, one that Yu disposes of easily before it gets the chance to strike at Adachi, or before Adachi even gets the chance to strike at it. This is how the pattern of the first stretch of shadowed paths goes: after the first raises no alarms, Yu overpowers them all without a second thought or feeling the need to monitor his strength.

It’s not that Adachi can’t hold his own. The problem, unlike with the others, is that he can. His strategy of letting the party get knocked cold so Yu can pick away at the Shadows without prying eyes won’t work on him—the second Shadow does take a swipe at him that sends him to the dirt, and he bitches up a storm as soon as the revival bead takes effect straight up until the next Shadow, so Yu would rather spare the both of them that.

With Adachi staying conscious, though, he sees everything. He’s fought with Yu before, he knows what he’s capable of, but something about seeing it alone must embolden him, because when the third Shadow is stubbornly resistant to Izanagi and requires a switch, Adachi spends the entire fight with his lips pressed together, waiting until it falls to voice what's so clearly on his mind.

“No, but for real,” Adachi says to the now-clear path, tossing it over his shoulder at Yu, who is pretending to be busy staring at the sign post. “Why do you get to have more than one?”

Yu just shrugs, because it’s not like he knows any better than he would. That’s the frustrating part for him, too. “I wish I knew.”

“Hmm,” Adachi twirls his gun around his index finger. “There seem to be several things that only apply to you, leader.”

Yu swallows back a heaviness on his tongue, readjusting his grip on his sword hilt. “You’re telling me.”

Adachi snorts at that, half-hearted and indelicate, but it’s so sharp it might have been involuntary, and he blinks, like the sound took even him off-guard. He glances back at Yu, and it’s only then he realizes he’s fallen behind, so he quickens his pace, taking the point on leading them left down a fork in the path.

“You mean it’s not by choice?” Adachi asks, lilted, like there’s something in Yu’s expression right now that amuses him and he wants to egg it on, though he has no idea what it could be. He seems to find what he’s looking for in the beat of silence he leaves after, lips twitching upwards. “That’s a drag, I was hoping I could send mine back to the shop for lack of originality.”

Yu has to force his legs to keep moving rather than come to a stop. It’s the first time they’ve really broached the subject, and while it hasn’t exactly hung heavy over their journey by any means, it’s been itching at the back of Yu’s mind every time they summon their Personas, the two Izanagis staring at each other across the pathway while their masters decline to comment on their similarity.

“It’s definitely… different,” Yu says slowly, chewing each word as it comes out. There’s another Shadow up ahead, so Yu hangs back behind a tree, and Adachi follows, free hand on his hip. “I guess it just means we’re similar.”

Adachi eyes the Shadow from behind their vantage point, giving his gun another twirl as he hums before glancing at Yu sidelong. “You have like, fifty, though.”

“Izanagi was my first,” Yu replies, bringing himself down to a whisper when the Shadow turns to undulate vaguely in their direction, though it still hasn’t noticed them. “I don’t know what it means, either.”

Again, he feels Adachi search him, picking apart every line of his face like the true detective Yu knows he is deep down, until he seems satisfied and gives another short laugh to himself. “Well, I guess there’s worse people than Inaba’s Golden Boy to copy the soul demon of or whatever.”

There’s a lot Yu wants to say to that—he’s far from anyone’s golden boy, and it’s not a copy from everything he’s come to understand—but everything stays unformulated in his thoughts. In the next moment, Adachi steps out from behind the tree to kick at a rock and suddenly one very pissed off Shadow is presenting a much more pressing situation than responding to something Adachi clearly wants to leave uncontested. As much as Yu would like to.

Afterwards, Adachi seems eager to get the next word in by the way he’s staring at him from the Shadow’s disintegrating form, so against Yu's better judgment, he lets him.

Yu doesn’t necessarily expect Adachi to use it to say, “You’re good at using all of them, too.”

Yu searches for some sort of sign of sarcasm or dry bitterness, but what he finds instead is something scientific, like it’s just an observation. If anything, there’s a glint of something sincerely impressed, a pinch of his eyes that catch in the light rather than swallowing it whole. It breaks within seconds though, and Adachi shrugs it off, rolling his shoulders and rubbing at a muscle in the crook of his neck.

“It’s just practice,” Yu offers, but Adachi is already walking ahead, and he has to stumble over his steps to catch up. “You’ll get there too.”

“Sure, sure,” he agrees, and with Adachi’s universal hand wave dismissal, Yu will let him have his way, at least this time.

After the last in this stretch of path is cleared, Yu catches up to himself and registers the implication of it about the same time Adachi seems to find his words again, standing with a hand up as the last Shadow falls.

“Wait,” Adachi says before dropping his hand, fast like he miscalculated the gesture, but it grabs Yu’s attention either way, something in his chest flipping uneasily. “This is where you were when you were on the edge of death the other week.” His gaze is clinical. “It’s why you’re stronger than everyone else.”

In the grand scheme of things, Yu expected to be called out for a lot worse. He feels some of the tension in his neck relax as he rolls it, hearing the crack in his own ears like the echoing snap of a twig. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Let me guess,” Adachi begins, seeming to grow tired of Yu standing in one place and walking forward again. Yu scrambles to get back in front of him, leading their way a bit more slowly down the forest path this time. “The others don’t know?”

It’s a loaded question. “I’m planning on coming back with them, at some point.”

“At some point,” Adachi echoes, and when Yu looks back, Adachi is looking up at him like he’s assembling a picture in his head, and Yu is sliding it together somehow. “Well, alright. None of my business.”

Arguably, it could be, but Yu doesn’t want to go there if Adachi won’t push for it. He appears content to leave it at that, hands shoved back into his pockets and soft breeze carrying stray hairs across his face. It’s hard to fully look away, so he doesn’t, stealing glances as he walks.

As they round the next bend, Adachi mutters, “At least let me get a hit in. You’re making me look pathetic.”

Something about it—the plain delivery, the transparent truth of his annoyance underneath, how it’s so honest in a way that feels rare and earned and Adachi doesn’t even know it—pulls Yu’s lips upwards, and he laughs, just once, airy enough to play up as the wind.

It must not be sufficient, because Adachi snaps his eyes up from the trees to meet Yu’s, the quizzical fall of his lips pronouncing the unevenness of his jawline. “There’s that look again.”

Yu halts, taken aback. “What look?”

Adachi shakes his head, starting up his steps again from where he’d briefly come to a halt. “This place really must make you manic.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, because he figures whatever the truth is, that’s the least incriminating version of it. “I can make that happen, also.”

“What?”

Around another corner, Yu slows his steps and lowers at the sight of a Shadow past the next clearing of trees, ducking behind the tree nearest to them and beckoning Adachi to do the same. He does so, and Yu turns his voice into a whisper, leaning in towards Adachi’s crouched form so he can hear. “I’ll let you strike first.”

The consequences of something going wrong are easy enough to mitigate; they’ve made it this far without a scratch, and the brief look of stubborn victory that falls across Adachi’s face before it’s smoothed over into perfect, practiced neutrality is enough to justify the risk entirely. Besides, he’ll have to hold his own in this place eventually, and even if Yu wanted to walk him through it on easy mode, he figures this is as good an indication as any that they’ve reached the end of the line on that.

Yu holds his breath and watches Adachi aim and ignite.

He holds the gun out straight, accentuating the long, sharp lines of his body and the glint of his eyes in gunmetal glow. Here, through the haze, Yu can calculate each shift in his stance like clicking gears: it starts in his fingertips as they curl around the trigger, wrist steady and precise in its hold, and moves through his torso, straight and lean at his rare full height, and then finally up to his eyes, where the lazy edge from just seconds before has been replaced by clear focus underneath his glasses, unblinking.

The entire air around him changes, a shift of energy that Yu feels as a shiver in his bones, and, not for the first time, wonders if this is a true peek behind the veil to the core of who he really is. Not just in the sense of what he’s capable of—Yu has always figured his propensity for violence is exaggerated at best—but what he’s capable at. The sight of it, his countenance when he’s in full command of himself, catches an inhale in Yu’s throat, and he wishes he could find a way to capture it for when it will inevitably disappear.

When Adachi shoots, he hits the Shadow straight in the back of the head and sends it howling towards them, injured but alert.

Adachi is strong. When he hits, it’s a substantial blow, and his synchronicity with his Persona, as unpracticed and haphazard as their motions are, is greater than Yu would expect. He moves through the trees like he knows the paths as well as Yu does, weaving throughout the fog like it parts for him as he strikes, fast and confident in his body. Unlike the others, who were wary of this forest and its secrets for good reason, Adachi is strikingly calm, and he looks at home here when he brings his gun down hard across the face of a wailing Shadow. More than Yu even thought he would, in all the time he’s spent dreaming of fighting at his side. He’s precise and quick, and one hit sets Yu up to knock them the rest of the way down. The two of them lock eyes across the clearing when they fall.

Yu continues to let Adachi get the first hit in, knowing that Yu would follow it up with the final blow anyway. It seems to placate him, at the very least. Not long after, Yu he makes them turn back around. They have an appointment at midnight, after all. The walk back, cleared of Shadows for now, is spent in relative, easy silence, both of them unscathed. Adachi only speaks up when they reach the entrance clearing again, approaching the TV.

“Does that lead back to your room?” Adachi asks, pausing at the edge of the forest with arms crossed.

“Yeah,” Yu confirms, lowering down to his knees in front of the screen. “We have to check the Midnight Channel.”

“Oh,” Adachi says, flat, dropping his arms but making no move, one foot on the dirt path and another on the foliage.

Yu understands, he thinks. It’s hard to leave. It always is. Instead of a reply, he simply looks up at him, patient but imploring, until whatever spell has come over him breaks enough for him to shake it off. He does so with a shiver, slinking over to where Yu sits. He doesn’t lower down to his knees yet. “Right. Because it’s connected. Of course.”

He may have been remiss in explaining those details. Yu, sheepishly, just crawls forward towards the TV. “We can watch it together. Come on.”

Adachi unceremoniously tumbles onto Yu’s bedroom floor only a few short seconds after Yu pops out himself, grumbling as his shoulder collides with the edge of the coffee table. He rises to his feet when he sees Yu on his without a fuss, moving to brush off dirt from his suit that no longer exists in this world.

Glancing down at his watch and reading two til midnight, Yu makes for the window and opens it up just a sliver to the rain. “We’re just in time.”

He slides into his ritual like clockwork, moving next for the light switch to plunge the room into darkness before sitting down on the couch, elbows on his knees. With a glance at the TV, Adachi sits on the furthest possible edge of the couch and crosses his legs, staring into the blank screen.

“Riveting,” he says after several seconds of silence, and Yu huffs a laugh. It’s all he has time for before the screen flickers to life, and the picture begins to take shape.

It’s clearer than last time by a mile, the figure still flickering with static, but in full, bold color, with crisp features that make its subject completely unmistakable. In the center of the screen, Yukiko Amagi is prancing around the entrance of a castle in a pink, low-cut ball gown, microphone in hand as she informs the audience about her prince competition in a sickly sweet dolled-up voice that’s an uncanny modulation of her own.

The first few seconds go by without any marked changes, aside from the slight variations in tone and wording that always come and go with repetition, so Yu sneaks a glance at Adachi to find him bolted to the couch in something akin to a cross of horror and discomfort, face pinched as he attempts to lean back as far as physically possible away from the screen. The program is gone as soon as it comes on, going black as soon as Yukiko’s Shadow finishes its spiel and dances into the castle proper. Adachi turns to him like a deer in the headlights.

“I really feel like I wasn’t supposed to see that,” he says, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as he slumps forward onto his knees with a sigh. “What the hell was that?”

Before Yu can think of a reply that’s the right tone between feigned ignorance and rationality, his phone goes off, and Yu answers it without checking the caller ID. He puts it on speaker and sets it on the table, placing a finger to his lips until Adachi nods.

“It’s Yukiko,” Chie says on the other end of the line, jumbled like it’s all one word, crackling with significant motion on the other end of the line. “I can’t get a hold of her.”

Yu presses his lips together, fighting a fresh wave of sympathy for the fraught tone in her voice. “You’ve tried calling?”

“She’s the lightest sleeper ever,” Chie assures, voice cracking on the last word. She clears her throat, which comes out as a burst of static on the other end so hard it vibrates the phone against the table. “She always picks up when I call! I’m heading over to her house now, but I…”

Hearing Chie wrestle against what sounds like tears is too much for Yu tonight, too soon. The pain in it is as foreign and jarring as ever, so he cuts her off gently. “It’s okay. Keep us posted.”

“Okay,” she agrees, and without further ceremony, the line goes dead.

He looks towards Adachi to see him opening his mouth to speak, but whatever it is, it’s interrupted by another round of Yu’s ringtone, and Yu sends him an apologetic glance before hitting the answer button again, knowing it’s Yosuke even before the caller ID confirms it.

“You were right,” Yosuke says, breathless before he even lets out a greeting to match Yu’s own when he picks up. “It is Yukiko. I tried to call her, but the line was busy.”

Yu leans closer, placing an elbow on the table. “Chie said she couldn’t get a hold of her.”

“I’m worried,” Yosuke mutters, and from the sound of rhythmic tapping in the background, Yu figures he must be burning absolute holes in his carpet right about now. Yu remembers he was the first time, too. “I know one disappearance isn’t enough to be a pattern, but no one’s ever appeared that clearly on the Midnight Channel before, right?”

Yu shakes his head, because even though Yosuke can’t see it, there’s someone else in the room now that can. “Not that I’m aware of.”

Yosuke sighs into the receiver, crackling out long and loud into the silence of Yu’s bedroom. “I think you should tell Adachi.”

In the face of that, Adachi makes a clicking sound with his tongue, and Yu puts a finger to his lips again, garnering a roll of Adachi’s eyes before turning back to the phone. “I agree.”

“Even if the police won’t take it seriously, someone there should at least know,” Yosuke explains, muffled like he has a hand over his face in thought. Yu can picture it clearly, so familiar from times past it’s like he’s in the room with him. “Especially if Chie doesn’t find her, which… I’ll be honest, Yu, I don’t have a good feeling about.”

The problem with not being alone, however, is that he has to keep his face neutral when he knows the answer, smoothing his expression over into a furrowed-brow mask of concern and seriousness. “Me neither.”

“If she’s taken, we’ll have to go back inside.” Yosuke gives another sigh at that, more measured than the first, and the tapping in the background comes to a halt as he presumably stills. Yu can imagine him shifting the hold of his phone and taking a seat on the edge of his bed, exhausted. There’s a weariness in his voice too when he says, “I’ll keep you updated.”

“I’ll do the same.” Yu agrees, before hanging up and laying back against the head of the couch, staring at the ceiling. He slides his phone into his pocket and rubs at his eyes, then swings around to face Adachi, who is still painted to the corner of the couch and staring at the spot where Yu’s phone was on the table.

After a few seconds of silence, Adachi stirs and fixes the cross of his legs, leaning on the arm of the couch and glancing back up at Yu with a striking amount of seriousness in his eyes. “So, you guys think she’s next, so to speak.”

Yu nods, folding his hands in attention. “Yeah.”

“Well.” Adachi says after another few seconds, peeling himself up off the cushions and rolling forward on his heels, turning his entire body to face towards Yu. “This sure complicates things.”

The thought that both of them have no idea how much it just might doesn’t escape him.

Yukiko’s missing, and time marches on.

Her seat is empty at school the next morning, flanked by a pale-faced Chie and a flustered Yosuke trying and failing to comfort her, and when Yu slides into his own seat, they look at him, pleading, like he has some sort of answer, but he just bites his tongue, gathering his books.

“We’ll save her,” Yu smiles up at Chie when he catches her eyes, soft. “I promise.”

She doesn’t look all too sure, but she nods all the same, and it seems to bring her a margin of comfort, with just a bit of color returning to her face. They’ve done it once before already, haven’t they? It’s better than Chies prior, who have had to go in without a track record of success, but he wonders if it’s counterproductive to think like that, sometimes, to compare and contrast when the now is so pertinent. But there’s not much else to go off of.

They suit up for the start of the dungeon that afternoon at Junes, Chie nearly running out of the school building as she leads their way across town to the store. Yu and Yosuke have to keep their strides long and fast to keep up even with her much shorter legs, and by the time they arrive at the electronics department, Yu is already a bit winded, and the inside of the TV world provides no reprieve.

Without Chie’s Shadow to provide the intermission, the castle itself is much easier to get through, but it’s still a multi-day affair, on account of the health and constitution of his teammates. If it were just Yu, he could go it alone in one day, but even on top of the increased physical strain—it’s a higher difficulty than Yamano’s complex, that’s for sure—there’s the emotional strain of knowing the victim. It’s an emotional strain that is most obvious on Chie, but seems to rest heavier and heavier on Yosuke’s shoulders the farther they crawl. Every time Yukiko’s distorted voice comes out through the walls, it’s another hole in their defenses, and they can only take it a floor at a time per night before Yu has to call it, as increasingly agitated as it makes Chie day by day. There’s no real way to assure her of her safety, either. What Yu knows, he can’t say, and without the rain carving out a pattern in their minds yet, it’s only his half-hearted assurances of intuition to tide them over.

It’s not enough for Chie, who is beside herself when she talks to the police with Yukiko’s family on the third day of her disappearance, or their classmates, who begin to fill the hallways with whispers on her whereabouts and even a potential case of multiple kidnappings, now that there’s a second girl vanished in this sleepy town in the span of a few weeks. It’s not enough for Yosuke, who spends each day before their trek into the Junes electronics department flipping through every piece of the case that he knows over and over again like rocks in a quarry. Yu is sure it’s not enough for Yukiko, trapped up in the highest room of the castle by her own psyche, but it’s what he can offer.

It’s barely enough for Adachi, with whom he spends his nights after the dungeon, trekking through the forests of Yomi to tales of his increasingly hectic escapades at the department with yet another disappearance swirling over their heads. With no leads to go off of, it’s at least enough for the rest of the police department, who seem keen to pass this off as just an overworked teen running away from home. All aside from Dojima, of course, who’s been making Adachi work overtime to compensate. When Yu cornered him at the gas station after work late to propose the idea of going back to Yomi in tandem with the team’s investigation, he’d initially scoffed and waved him away, fighting back a yawn through his words.

“Beat it, kid, I’m already doing overtime,” he’d dismissed, rolling his eyes. “I’m not doing overtime with you, too.”

Yu had figured he might say that. “If you think you’ll be fine, I’ll just go back myself.”

“No,” he’d countered immediately, with more force than Yu anticipated. “You’re not going to traipse around there all night and wear yourself down to dust again.”

“Okay,” Yu offered, again. “Then join me.”

It’s funny then, for all his complaining, that he comes in with him every night after, but unlike the rest of them, Yu knows there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. He doesn’t mind pushing himself. It’s fine.

By the end of the first week and into the next, they manage to clear their way to the top of the castle, and with some coercing, Yu manages to convince the rest to wait two more days until Adachi’s day off to break down the door. With Teddie’s help, they at least know for certain she’s behind there, which makes it a bit of an easier sell to Chie, who seems two seconds away from breaking down the door on her own accord. Unlike Yu, though, he’s confident she knows better than to try coming in here alone.

When the day comes to pass, Yu waits in the Junes lobby until he sees Adachi’s car pull into the parking lot. He takes in the circles underneath his eyes and the slouch of his shoulders that at least make some lame attempt to straighten when he sees Yu waiting. He leads them to the electronics department where the other two are loitering by the televisions, and Adachi gives them a little wave on the approach that only Yosuke returns, with Chie too busy attempting to burn holes in the linoleum with her shoes.

Inside, Yukiko’s Shadow is having an absolutely delightful time staging its favorite dating game show, and not even Adachi, the secret genre aficionado he is, seems enthused when it considers him among its potential princes. But it always circles back to Chie. Yu’d brushed off his first view of it as some sort of intricate friendship drama that he’d simply never experienced before, but it all began to make significantly more sense after learning that they’ve been dating, in their own words, practically since the second grade.

Now that he knows, it seems impossible he didn’t pick up on it before—the fixation both their Shadows have on each other, the strength of Chie’s panic in the face of her disappearance, the way hearing her Shadow’s words tears Yukiko in half from where she’s crumpled up on the castle floor—all speaks to a certain level of devotion and depth that goes beyond the strictly platonic. As does the way Chie runs to shield Yukiko’s body when her Shadow transforms, even as the rest of them run up immediately to face it.

With four of them, the fight is easier than almost any significant one they’ve faced in the castle so far. The extra round of firepower keeps the scales tipped solidly in their favor the entire fight, though Yukiko’s Shadow thrashes about and spits its flames, cornered and frightened. All the while, Chie keeps sending glances towards Yukiko’s prone form. Each of them chip away at the Shadows’ strength piece by piece, and as the cage finally falls from the ceiling and disintegrates into a pile of its own fire, Chie rushes over to her first as always. She’s followed by Adachi of all people, who kneels down to check her pulse before Yu and Yosuke can jog over, peeling back sweat-slicked bangs from his forehead as Chie brushes Yukiko’s own out of her eyes.

Adachi pulls back, and Chie puts a hand to Yukiko’s face as she opens her eyes. It’s easier to accept her Shadow when the first thing she sees is Chie hovering over her than it is for many in her shoes, but it still takes her some time, staring down her double before she eventually relents, and her Persona manifests. She accepts it into her heart, but that’s all the strength she still has left in her body before she collapses again from the exhaustion of it all, folding into Chie’s arms which stretch out to catch her like it’s home. It feels like home for Yu, too, to have her here, back where she belongs.

Chie and Yosuke team up to carry her out, and as they head back down through the halls of the castle, Adachi turns to Yu with a sigh and asks, “This probably isn’t over, is it?”

Yu accidentally bumps his shoulder on a turn down the staircase, but he plays it off with a smile. Adachi purposefully knocks his shoulder into him in return, stone faced. Yu smoothes it over into neutrality within seconds though, reminding his expression to fit the tone of the moment. “No, probably not.”

It feels good to steal a moment with someone else who looks oddly fine with that.

Chapter Text

The next time they gather around their table at Junes, it’s as a group of five, and Yu’s never felt stranger or more at home.

“Now that we can all gather,” Yosuke says once he returns with a cone of soft serve—a post-mission treat he normally savors in the summer months but seems to have discovered early this loop. He looks across the table at Adachi, who just shrugs, tossing another piece of beef into his mouth. His schedule was the hardest to work around, which is why it’s been three days since Yukiko came to and they’re only just now sitting down to talk, but surprisingly, they had all been adamant they wait for all their members before holding the official meeting.“I think it’s time to get everyone up to speed.”

“Chie explained almost everything,” Yukiko says, raking her fingers through a lock of hair. She flicks her eyes across the table, and Chie shifts at her side to move an inch closer. “But she suggested I wait until everyone was here to say what I remember, even though I tried to tell her it’s really not that much.”

“First things first,” Yosuke interjects, pointing across the table. Once again, the table has been arranged to find Yu and Adachi on one side, and Yosuke and the girls on the other. It’s not meant to be a demarcation line, but sometimes, Yu feels their positions distinctly. “I don’t think you two have actually met.”

“Right,” Adachi laughs weakly, pretending to straighten his tie. He gives a little salute, putting on his best lopsided smile. “I’m Tohru Adachi, with the Inaba PD... Oh but, don’t worry! I’m not here for that. And you’re Yukiko Amagi.”

Yukiko nods, polite and measured, and takes a sip of her hot tea. “We met briefly while dealing with Miss Yamano’s… demands.”

It’s surreal. Yu could take a polaroid of this exact moment in the timeline—the next meeting after Yukiko’s recovered, late April, stagnant and as familiar as the back of his hand—and hold it up next to what’s in front of him now for a game of spot the difference, and he wouldn’t really know where to start. There’s the obvious change: an extra person on the bench, making three across where there’s always been just two. But the more Yu looks around, the more he finds subtle distinctions, too.

Like the way Yosuke is sitting, cross-legged and cross-armed tighter than he’d be if it were just his peers, but a little bit less intensely than times prior with Adachi. There’s the shared plate of beef in the middle that Chie had bullied the detective into buying. Yu doesn’t ever remember Yukiko being able to eat much the first few days after waking up, but there’s a plate of tofu in front of her that she’s picking at. Chie is wearing her white shoes instead of her black. The whole picture starts to blur when he gets too close, so he pulls back, watching as Adachi tries and fails to barter a piece of beef in exchange for tofu with Yukiko.

“The more you deviate from your original conditions,” Igor had told him once, back in the early loops, “the more your surroundings will begin to change." Perhaps it was in a dream. Yu remembers a butterfly, glowing blue and trailing slow glittering tendrils of light behind it, fluttering to perch on Igor’s outstretched finger. “There’s the metaphorical example of a butterfly flapping its wings that I’m sure you’ve heard.”

Yu couldn’t recall the specifics, but he knew the gist. “A ripple effect. Something small can have a larger impact down the line.”

“And that chain reaction begins,” Igor snapped his fingers with his free hand, “instantly on impact.” The butterfly didn’t flinch; it just flapped its wings once, slowly, like it was listening too, and demonstrating.

Then it flew over to perch upon Margaret’s open book, and even remembering it now, Yu has a distinct feeling that he’s seen it before, but in the same way he sometimes can’t tell the difference between his dreams and what’s happened in a loop.

“Some of the effects will be immediate,” Margaret had explained, watching the butterfly blank-faced before turning to Yu. “And some you won’t know until later. This is an inevitable consequence of your path.”

“I understand,” Yu had told her. At the time, he’d woken up tense, tendons in his jawline pulled taut, stiff in his shoulders when he’d rolled over in bed.

Now, though, it feels more like an observation, an awareness that life is changing in front of him, always, all the time, and every tiny move spools out a future he can only start to guess at. A bobbin of thread unwinding down great spiralling stairs. It’s already started, is starting again every moment, and it feels like another beginning and another end as Yu surveys the table, soda in hand.

Adachi shifts at his side, switching the cross of his legs and digging his nails just slightly into the bench, so Yu asks Yukiko, “What do you remember, exactly?”

Chie nods at something Yukiko whispers to her before they turn to the group. Yukiko folds her hands in her lap, and sighs, “Like I said, not much. I wish I were more help.”

Adachi shakes his head, and Yu catalogues the change from his casual stance to the small hint of professionalism that seems to bubble to the surface, maybe against his will. There’s a hardened edge to his eyes when he narrows them, soft still, but more focused. “Anything you have is helpful.”

She takes another sip of her tea. “I was working a late night at the Inn. After I had dinner with Chie, I had to go back,” she explains, putting another piece of tofu between her chopsticks. “All I remember is that it was swarming with reporters still, and my mom collapsed from the stress. I carried her to her room and then went out for some fresh air myself, and then next thing I knew I was trapped inside that other world.”

Adachi nods, asking, “There was no one out there with you?”

“No one at all,” Yukiko assures, eating her piece of tofu finally. She chews delicately, thinking, before she adds, “No, no one. It was just out back by the suite entrances, and there’s rarely anyone ever there unless we have guests. That’s where our employees take smoke breaks when it’s empty. I don’t remember feeling or seeing anything until I was… in the TV.”

Adachi hums at the hint of confusion in her tone, like he can’t believe she’s saying those words in that order either. Yosuke makes a noise in the back of his throat as well, but it sounds almost out of reflex more than anything, putting a hand to his chin and staring up at the Junes umbrella. “So we’re back at square one. That’s two people now.”

“It’s personal now,” Chie says, speaking up for the first time since they sat down, having spent most of the conversation chewing on beef in uncharacteristic silence, one hand under the table on Yukiko’s knee. She raises it to put both hands on the table in conviction. “We can’t just walk away from this. Someone else could be next.”

“At this point...” Yosuke shakes his head as he lowers his hands to cross again at his chest. “I think we should treat it like someone will be.”

He looks up towards Adachi, who says, “I agree.”

“It seems to line up with the rain,” Yu offers, because it’s an important tidbit, and it might as well come up now. It’s another one of those insignificant aberrations, he figures. There are loops where Yu says it first, and loops where Yosuke comes to the conclusion, but either way, it usually gets introduced around this time. With the pause in conversation, Yu figures there’s no harm in it, if they’re to establish a schedule. There are no bodies to mark the dates of certain failure, and rain comes often in these parts. “New people show up on the TV with the cycles of rain each month. Teddie says that world is connected to our weather, so we probably shouldn’t leave someone until the next rain after.”

“Right,” Yosuke agrees emphatically. “Who knows what could happen. Which means we need to be checking the Midnight Channel.”

Out of the corner of Yu’s eye, Adachi steeples his fingers and rests his elbows on the table, brows furrowed. He lets Yosuke’s words sit for a moment, then cuts into Chie’s and Yukiko’s soft assent with a muttered, “The regular TV, too.”

“What?” Yukiko asks.

He just shakes his head, softening his features and taking a long, noisy sip of his drink. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” he brushes off, stirring the straw and leaning into his palm. “I just have a theory. It’s probably nothing. Let’s keep an eye on the news, maybe.”

Yosuke considers this for a moment, honest and thoughtful, but Yu has to fight to keep his expression straight. He takes in Adachi’s casually rounded shoulders and distracted glances, looking blissfully unaware of the dots he’s connected together. It’s not lost on Yosuke, though, who replies, “That’s not a bad idea. It could be connected.”

“I appeared on the news beforehand,” Yukiko adds, lighting up a few degrees at the chance to apply something she does actually remember. “And Yamano’s always on the news. It could be.”

Yu can feel the thread unspooling just a little too fast for his liking, as easy as he’s let these differences slide, so he puts a hand in the center of the table gently. The motion draws everyone’s attention to him like the soft flick of a lightswitch. “Until then,” he says, bringing his hand back to his drink once he’s satisfied that they’re listening, “let’s keep an eye on things. Here, and in the other world.”

For once, Yu might actually need to pay attention.

Down in the Shopping District on his day off, Marie catches him by the arm and whisks him away into an entirely empty Velvet Room, and he knows immediately the time for the real conversation between them has come.

“You got Igor to leave the Velvet Room?” Yu asks an eerily quiet limousine, occupied only by Marie who’s standing by the table tapping her foot while Yu stands by the entrance, back against the door.

“Yeah,” Marie shrugs, gesturing to the open booth. “I asked him to, for this. A drink?”

Yu eyes the rows of bottles lining the glass case around the interior of the car, and the serve ware at the center of the table. “It’s not just for show?”

Apparently tired of waiting for him, she slides into the booth first herself, and Yu takes the hint to follow her in, situating himself so they’re sitting across from one another. “Dunno, actually,” she replies, leaning down to pull one of the bottles out and hold it up under the light. The label’s in a language Yu doesn’t even recognize, but it looks expensive, as everything does here. She picks up one of the glasses, flicks off the cap on the bottle, and pours some of the liquid out. It’s a glowing iridescent black in the bottle, but it comes out clear in the glass, and when Marie gives it a swirl and taste, she frowns. “Yep, just water. Want some anyway?”

Yu doesn’t know how much he trusts it, but he’ll take something to do with his hands, so he says, “Sure.”

Marie pours another almost up to the rim before sliding it over, and Yu gives it a sniff. It’s just as plain and nondescript as the taste when he takes a small sip. Water. Well, at least now he knows.

Marie downs her glass and refills it, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. She stares somewhere off behind Yu’s head for a moment before she seems to shake it off, beginning, “I’m sorry I waited so long to say something. I kinda wanted to see what you would do.”

Yu twirls the glass, the light from the limousine catching the indentations on the surface and casting specks across the wall. “That makes sense.”

Yu’s never noticed it before, but sitting across from her now, especially in the absence of Igor and Margaret, the energy she gives off is different than either of them, and different from this room. They’ve both always known she’s not cut from the same cloth as the other two, whatever that cloth may be, but with nothing between them to mask it, there’s something unearthly in her aura—in the way she carries herself and in the light of her eyes—that reminds him of dew-soaked fallen leaves, pine needles, and fog.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” she says, fidgeting with her hands. “For a while, I thought I was the only one able to access that place. The forest.”

“Yomi,” Yu supplies, letting the water flood his parched throat.

“If that’s what you call it.” Marie gives a half-hearted shrug, her bangs flopping into her eyes as she turns from Yu to look at the row of bottles again. “I just know that’s where I go when I dream.”

So does Yu, but somehow, he doesn’t think she means it in the same way. “Every night?”

“Whenever I do dream,” Marie tactfully replies, though Yu doesn’t know why she emphasizes it the way she does, like it matters. “So I guess I was just a little surprised to see you there.”

“You told me not to go alone.” Yu cuts to the chase, because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and Marie seems reluctant, chewing on the inside of her cheek and still examining bottle labels, only looking up briefly when he speaks. “Why is that?”

Marie huffs, sinking back in the booth seat. “I wouldn’t have said anything if you had let it go, but you kept coming back. It’s just a guess.”

Yu frowns before he remembers to soften the creases of his face for her sake, smoothing it over into something more thoughtful. “What do you mean?”

Marie reaches to fill his glass back up, watching as black filters into a clear. He finishes it again as he waits for her to speak, lips covered with her fingers as she taps them against her cheek.

“It’s just,” she says, with a little frustrated noise in the back of her throat like he’s offended her somehow, but he’s learned not to take it personally. “I go there alone night after night, and nothing ever happens. And nothing was happening with you. So I figured it would be just as useless.”

Something about that strikes Yu enough to shake his head, and he’s countering it before he can catch up to his own words. “I have a connection to that place. I can feel it.”

“Yeah, man.” Marie rolls her eyes. “So do I. There’s still nothing there.”

Not for the first time, Yu wishes the actual drinks in this room were available and stiff, because he can feel pressure building up behind his right eye. It’s not like she’s not trying, but there’s a reason she sought this conversation out, not him. Something about it feels fraught, like he doesn’t want to know and wants to escape before he can get the answers, because he wants to go back. The urge is so strong it knocks him off-guard, and he finds his nails digging into the muscle of his thigh so hard it hurts.

He unclenches his hands, and asks, “But what’s the difference if I’m not alone?”

“I dunno,” Marie replies, simply. “All I know is that the only thing that’s ever changed is when you came along and riled up the Shadows. So I wondered if maybe having someone else there would change it. Has it?”

Yu pinches the bridge of his nose, and hopes it doesn’t sound incidentally mocking when he echoes, “I don’t know.”

Marie exhales, long and hard enough to draw Yu’s attention up from his hands to look at her again. She puts the cap back on the bottle and places it on the shelf before shutting the glass doors again and running her palms down her face, resting them around her jawline as she continues to prop herself up on the table.

“I’ll be honest, Yu,” she confesses, quirking her lips sardonically. “I don’t like you there. But I also know telling you to stop won’t mean jack shit. But…” She folds her hands on the table. “I kind of want to know what it’s about, too. If you can help with that, great. I just… I didn’t want…”

Yu holds up a hand, sparing her from the hardship of having to admit out loud that she feels concern for another living being. “You don’t want me to go alone. I get it.”

“I don’t want you wasting your time in there on something stupid,” she clarifies with a snap, like that’s what she meant to say all along. She wipes at her lips, and the gesture reminds him of someone quite similar to her, in a lot of ways. He smiles.

“Is there anything you know about it?” Yu asks after a beat of silence, because it’s worth a shot. “Anything at all?”

Marie’s hand disappears into the pocket where he knows she keeps her comb, and he can see the outline of her thumb smoothing over the surface of it through the fabric. “Nothing.”

Unfortunately, Yu believes her.

April passes by in a blur, and suddenly, Golden Week is right around the corner.

With nothing on the horizon until Kanji begins to appear on TV, he’s left with more free time than he’s had in a while this loop, with his calendar suddenly open for social appointments left and right. Kanji himself has already started increasing his biker gang hours in the inevitable slide that will lead to his momentary small-town infamy, but Yu still pays a visit to his mother to buy a spring scarf when their new seasonal collection drops.

Yosuke and Chie have started to slowly become fixtures in his daily life again outside of the investigation, with Yukiko only shortly behind. It’s a relief when Chie starts inviting him to rooftop lunch, and when Yosuke starts to wait for him after class on the days he doesn’t have work, but it’s an even bigger relief to meet all three of them at the gates of school in the morning, stitched together as a unit. Yukiko even begins to share her tofu with him in exchange for some of Yu’s lunch pieces, perhaps the best peace offering of all, and slowly but surely, the beginnings of the group are forming.

Yu can see himself in it as clearly as ever, much more so than almost any other loop since the first. Now that an investigation looms over their heads, the string that pulled them towards each other has been yanked taut, and it brings with it all the intense camaraderie that comes with being co-conspirators; the difference this time, Yu knows all too well, is that he’s trying. Not just with them, but with everyone.

Every day, he wakes up, and he tries. By afternoon, he attends soccer practice and acting club, daycare and the shrine, and by nights he cleans the hospital and does homework with Nanako, washes dishes at the pub and walks the Shopping District. He hears about things he already knows, from everyone, all the time, but something about it feels new and vital this time around—or at the very least, more pertinent.

He finds himself listening harder when whomever he’s with starts to get into the weeds: even Dojima, whose first inevitable fight with Nanako occurs on the eve of Golden Week, as it always does. No matter what Yu says, no matter how hard he tries in this capacity, no matter how many iterations of this moment he’s lived through, the facts of this particular situation never seem to change. Dojima makes promises he can’t keep, and Nanako bears the brunt of it when he breaks them. No amount of intervention has altered certain wheels of fate, and it’s odd, finding where they stubbornly stick. Few feel more stubborn than this. Yu comes home from his last day of school before break to find Nanako bouncing off the walls from excitement over the itinerary Dojima has laid out for her, and then watches the clock. An hour later, give or take the time, Dojima arrives, as haggard and miserable as he’s ever looked, and slinks into the house in a shame that’s projected long before he opens his mouth.

“I won’t be able to make it,” he mutters as he slouches into one of the dining room chairs, pinching his temples. “I’m sorry, Nanako. Something came up at work.”

Nanako’s strong, stronger than any child her age has any right to be, but even she can’t handle disappointment after disappointment. She’s still a child, after all. Tears well up in her eyes, and no matter how many times Yu has seen it, her pain tugs at his heart like nothing else, punching the air right out of him.

“But you promised,” she says, choked, standing up and clutching at the bottom of her dress with balled up little fists, voice shaking. “You promised! You always do this!”

She’s gone running from the room before Dojima can even wrap his mouth around a full sentence, barely peeling himself up from the chair to go after her before slumping back down and putting his whole head in his hands. Slowly, Yu makes his way over to where he sits and takes the chair opposite from him.

This conversation, in his experience, isn’t long. It’s just enough of a push to get him to go after her—but to his surprise, the instant Yu takes his seat, Dojima looks up at him over his hands and sighs, staring at him like he’s on the precipice of a decision.

It takes him a few seconds to make it, but Yu is patient, and in the end, he speaks.

Dojima curls over the table and opens up about her mother like it’s the first time, because for this moment, it might as well be. He’s never told him this early in the loop before—such secrets have always been saved for ages down the line. In the moments of repetition, it’s easy to forget just how long he’s been in Dojima’s life now, with months of acquaintanceship no other loop has accounted for. Yu tries to keep the surprise on his face soft and moving in time with Dojima’s words rather than the rattling in his own head, humming and emoting at the right times.

“I don’t know what to do with her,” Dojima sighs after he’s been silent for a heartbeat, the truth of the car crash and their family’s fracture hanging in the air. It’s been about fifteen minutes since Nanako ran out, and while Yu would love nothing more than to go and comfort her next, he has to save it for tomorrow. This is Dojima’s place. It needs to be. “Chisato was always better at that.”

“I know,” Yu says, before he considers how that might sound. Dojima just looks up at him, wry, because at least they both know it’s true. Still, he recovers with, “No one does. You just have to try.”

Dojima forces a small smile at that before folding his paper, which Yu will take as a victory. He’s handled this conversation a lot less gracefully in the past, depending on where it falls in the loop and how much frustration about the situation has been building. Dojima tends to Nanako soon after, leaving Yu with some rare peace and quiet before bed that, for once, he decides to take. He makes it up to Nanako the morning after with promises he can keep: a trip to Junes with the group that lights up her entire face. His friends take her in as their own, and that’s something that never changes.

He hears about Saki Konishi, just about as much as he ever did, between Yosuke and Naoki; the latter of whom, in the absence of his grief, feels as stifled by the shadow of her in life as in her death.

“The shop’s been struggling,” Naoki explains, playing with his noodles from his regular perch at Aiya. “I know she doesn’t care about it, but I wish she’d care about us.”

Yu slurps his own noodles thoughtfully, thinking of the ghostly Konishi Liquors just down the street and how Naoki’s schedule revolves around it, seeing Yu and his few other friends only on the days he isn’t summoned to monitor it. By this time on most loops, the press from her death has driven business to more than twice of what it normally is, the locals’ gossip focused on her untimely and tragic end rather than her teenage rebellion. In the absence of that, though, the quiet of their shop hangs heavy over Naoki’s head. He’s still worked just as hard, and loved just as little.

“I understand,” Yu says, because even though he doesn’t himself, he knows why Naoki feels that way. It’s not so different, underneath the circumstances.

“I just don’t get it,” Naoki mutters, twirling a noodle around his chopsticks and frowning at it, a pinched, wilting crease between his ashy blonde brows. “She’s my older sister. She was supposed to protect me.”

Yu just sends him a sympathetic look, because lots of things were supposed to happen, but sadly, that was never one of them. Not right now, anyway. At least this Naoki still has someone to steal his cream puffs from the fridge—a privilege any other Naoki might have killed for. Yu stays quiet.

Yosuke, for his part, continues to pine from afar, but the cracks in his surface-level crush are splintering faster than when she was martyred. His attempts to connect with her continue to be stilted and pained. It’s not so different from the few times Yu witnessed Yosuke interacting with her in the brief amount of time she was alive; the difference, by now, is that Yu knows what to look for. There’s some truth to her Shadow: her patience with Yosuke wanes faster than he realizes—he’s prone to dragging on the conversation too long, for the sake of talking—but it doesn’t change how she seeks him out at times, checking up on him in her own way. Yu occasionally catches her pass just to double back rather than avoid him outright. Yosuke never gets any smoother in his approach, though, and Yu has the distinct feeling that they’d be closer friends if Yosuke dropped the act and just talked to her like he does with Chie and Yukiko, but Yu knows better than to say that. At least yet.

“You just keep coming back, huh?” Saki asks Yu, as she breezes by the Junes patio table that he and Yosuke have claimed as their own one afternoon mid-way through the week, curly hair bouncing across her shoulders as she rests a hand on her hip. “How’d you manage to get friends all of a sudden, Hanamura?”

“I’ve had friends,” Yosuke objects, voice dripping with artificial syrupy slickness despite the sputtering way he trips into the sentence, making the final product more awkward than suave. “Besides, I have you too, senpai. Right?”

Saki rolls her eyes, but there’s a small smile on her lips as she crosses her arms over her Junes apron, tapping her fingers across her forearm. “Sure, sure,” she tosses over her shoulder as she heads back off towards the store. “Keep working at it.”

“Man, isn’t she hot?” Yosuke asks with a wink, hushed even when she’s out of earshot. He has that high-pitched excitement about him, the kind he uses in the early weeks of knowing Risette, and Yu has to wonder whether his admiration for her is really a schoolyard crush or something more star-struck from the scraps of attention. “I can’t believe she works here.”

“Me neither,” Yu says, though it’s not necessarily for the same reasons.

Then, there’s Adachi, who still gets more of his efforts than anyone else. Maybe it would be less stark if he weren’t always where Yu is, but he manages to be so frequently. As April turns over into May, he’s at Junes less and less, as a result of the investigation, but he’s still there on occasion. On the first weekend of the month, Yu finds him in the lobby, trapped at the elevators by a familiar old woman chatting his ear off.

He doesn’t notice him approach at first, so Yu sneaks in slow, ducking behind customers until he’s in earshot and then obscuring himself behind her back, using the row of shopping carts as a shield.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Tohru,” he hears her chide, and although she is by all accounts a pleasant—if overbearing—woman, her voice is crackly and just a bit shrill, and he can see why tension draws across Adachi’s body. He still hasn’t noticed him, eyes stubbornly to the floor in a rare display of submission with arms crossed. He wonders how long this has been going on. “Look at you, working yourself to the bone. It makes no sense for a handsome man like you not to have a wife to look after you already.”

Adachi takes a step back at that to press up against the wall, and as a result, pulls Yu into his view. It’s right then that he peels his eyes up, and they go wide the second they catch sight of him over her shoulder, lips parting just slightly. The old lady responds as if it were directed at her, tutting, “Don’t worry, Tohru, you’ll find someone soon.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a lotus root, waving it excitedly in his face as he crinkles his nose behind a plasticine laugh, short and curt. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off Yu, and the expression in them hasn’t moved an inch, like a prey animal in the headlights. “Until then, let me cook for you tonight! I’ll make the renkon tough, just how you like.”

Taking pity on him, Yu walks out from behind the shopping carts, crossing over to Adachi’s side with a wave and a smile like he’s just caught sight of him, feeling just as fake as Adachi’s laughter when he calls, “Adachi! There you are!”

“Oh.” Adachi turns with a little jolt, putting a hand to the back of his head and breaking out of where he’d been frozen against the wall, his body moving all at once. He steps behind Yu with one long stride, and as he spins around to face her again, he puts his hands on Yu’s shoulders just briefly, squeezing into the muscle, and Yu feels the indents in his skin long after he’s clapped his hands together and let them fall back down to his sides. “That’s right. I’m actually having dinner tonight with this kid.”

Without missing a beat, Yu just smiles and says, “We are.”

“Such a shame,” Adachi says, and there’s a lathering of faux regret in his voice, but Yu doesn’t miss the way it sings in relief. “Next time!”

“I see.” The old lady smiles softly at both of them, and Yu can hardly see her eyes from behind her thick glasses, but they look kind, genuine. She regards Yu with a nod, and it may be from someone who knows less than nothing about Adachi at all, or so he’d say, but it stirs something in him to get her approval, like he’ll look after him as well as she would hope. “Next time. Take care, Tohru.”

They’re silent until she’s hobbled out of the lobby and safely out of earshot. Adachi breaks it with a long, loud sigh, miming at wiping sweat off his forehead as he collapses against the elevator wall, pulling at his tie with his other hand. “Thanks, kid, you really saved me.”

Yu stands at his side, watching from their corner as throngs of shoppers go by. “It’s nothing.”

“I really owe you one.” Adachi turns to him, and when he catches Yu’s eyes, he winks, laughing high, like a jackal. It’s not real, but it’s closer to reality, and it bubbles up something conspiratorial in him, too. “I don’t know how to handle those naggy, annoying types. Apparently her son has the same name as me, and she’s been hanging around me ever since she found out. She’s always bringing in heaps of nimono to the station, and talking my ear off… It’s so annoying.” He looks thoughtful. “She’s nothing like my parents.”

Yu lifts himself up from the wall a little as he prompts, “Oh yeah?”

Adachi leans his head back and looks up at the lofted ceiling, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets. He crosses his ankles, and up close, Yu can see there is a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, sticking some of his stray hairs to his forehead. “I hate tough renkon,” he sighs, biting into a half-yawn. “My mom always cooked it that way too, but I wouldn’t eat it. I’d leave it on my plate every time, but she never noticed. When she made dinner, that is.”

It’s not the first time he’s heard this story, far from it, but something about how it’s delivered now—the plainness of it, the way his gaze is somewhere far-off and lost in a memory that Yu can only guess at—is so raw that it feels original, striking Yu straight into his chest with something close to regret that he wasn’t there to say something. It’s a strange thought to have with such striking clarity on the fiftieth try. “That’s a shame.”

“Oh, well,” Adachi drawls, and just like that, he seems to snap out of whatever memory had grasped him. He shakes his head out with a scratch of his scalp and shifts his shoulders back as he looks at Yu, rolling his eyes at himself and shrugging. “At least they weren’t annoying like that. Could be worse.”

Yu declines to comment, because he doesn’t want to validate his blasé attitude towards it, but he knows better than to keep digging, so he just hums.

Adachi takes it as a good enough acknowledgement, so he just peels himself up off the wall and asks, “What are you here to make for dinner anyway?”

“Sushi. With sea urchin,” Yu replies. He has free time for something a bit more special and involved. “You should come.”

“I was joking, kid,” Adachi brushes him off, giving a sigh that’s more of just a weak puff of air with little conviction behind it. “You don’t have to.”

Yu just looks at him, unflinching, and says, “But I want to.”

Adachi sometimes looks like he doesn’t understand Yu at all. “Well. Okay.”

That evening is a quiet one in the Dojima house: Nanako’s gone off to a friend’s for the night, and Dojima’s schedule is as it always is, leaving Yu to his own devices with only the TV as background noise as he works on dinner, humming to himself as he goes. When he hears Adachi’s car pull up the straight, he bounds over to the door and answers it before Adachi can even ring the bell.

Adachi hovers at the door as he peers into the the Dojima house, yellow jacket hanging from his frame. “Where’s Nanako?”

“Out tonight,” Yu supplies, opening the door wider for him to enter. He complies, slinking in through the frame, but stands there blankly like he doesn’t quite know whether he wants to go in farther.

“So it’s just us?” Adachi asks, letting his hood fall back with a shake of his head. “Won’t that be awkward?”

Yu felt something itch at the back of his head too when Nanako told him she’d be out, but whatever it was, awkwardness wasn’t the word he’d use to describe it. “Why would it be? It’s just dinner.”

Slowly, Adachi toes off his shoes, scanning the Dojima house as he pulls his jacket off his shoulders, and clicks his tongue. “I guess so.”

Yu takes Adachi’s jacket before he can put it on a hanger himself, folding it over his hands before smoothing it out to hang next to Yu’s own in the front closet. “Would you like a drink?”

“Yes,” Adachi says, like he can’t agree fast enough. He loosens the knot of his already-askew tie, pulling at the fold of his collar to breathe. “Yeah, definitely.”

Yu understands his need for one, but doesn’t share in its urgency for once, handing Adachi a beer can from Dojima’s stash in the fridge without a second thought. He takes it in his hands and taps at the tab once before pulling it up, taking a furtive sip as Yu slides back into the kitchen.

“I’m making nigiri,” Yu explains, surveying his cutting board with various slices of fish laid out in strips, ready for the sushi rice that should be done any minute. “I have salmon and marbled tuna to go with the sea urchin. Is that okay?”

Adachi takes another gulp of his beer and says, “You’re the one cooking, not me. I haven’t had uni that isn’t store-bought in ages.”

Yu inspects the rice and turns the cooker off when he’s satisfied. Adachi is peering at Yu’s work from over his shoulder in naked interest, one eyebrow cocked and a hum on his lips.

“Still, it’s better if everyone enjoys it,” Yu offers, waiting for the rice to cool just slightly before he washes his hands and tests the texture, making his first rice ball and setting a piece of urchin on top. He reaches into the fridge for the sauce he made earlier—soy sauce mixed with uni and some sugar—and takes the plastic off the bowl, dipping the piece of sushi in before holding it out towards Adachi. “Here.”

Yu expects him to take it with his hands, but the one seems to be surgically glued to his can, and he must forget what to do with his other, because he flounders off-guard for a second. A little bit of sauce falls from the sushi onto the floor and Adachi hurries to take it between his teeth, narrowly avoiding Yu’s fingertips. Their gaze meets, and like an electric shock, Adachi pulls back and realizes what he’s done, eyes wide as he puts a hand up to push it the rest of the way in, turning away to chew.

“I’ll clean that,” Adachi says behind a full mouth of sushi, indelicate. Before he can even think to do that, though, Yu grabs a towel from off the oven and quickly mops it up with his feet, leaving Adachi to chew thoughtfully before his face breaks into genuine approval. Yu’s warmed by it from the inside out. “Shit. This is amazing. You bought the good stuff.”

He’d decided what he was going to make the second Adachi asked—if it were just him, or even just him and Nanako, there was no way he’d have spent this much—but it’s worth it for the look on his face now. Yu feels distinctly accomplished, and just a little prideful.

“I have some edamame salad the other day I made as a side,” Yu says, after it’s been a little too quiet for a little too long, Adachi chewing carefully and Yu watching him as he starts to press more rice, only catching each other in the periphery. “If you don’t mind leftovers.”

“Sure, sure,” Adachi dismisses, finally swallowing down the last of his piece of sushi. It’s probably the best protein he’s had in days. Dojima’s been working him to the bone since Yukiko reappeared, and Adachi looks as if a strong gust of wind might push him over on a good day, but he looks absolutely ghoulish as of late. It might just be his imagination, but he swears he sees a little bit of color return to him as he speaks. “Do you need like… help or anything?”

Yu doesn’t get the impression that he’s asking because he wants to, and despite the flat delivery, Yu finds it’s almost kind of sweet of him. “No, not really.”

It’s an easy enough dinner, after prep. Gathering the rice is mindless work, and before he knows it, he has enough to fit the fish he’s cut, and he’s made more than enough for the both of them. Adachi hovers nearby, seeking to toss his empty beer can into the recycling bin beneath the sink, and wordlessly Yu shifts to give him access.

Yu spares him having to vocalize the lost sort of look across his face, now that his hands are empty, by saying, “You can have another, if you want.”

“Thanks,” Adachi says in an exhale, sliding around him to slink over to the fridge and pull out another can, cracking it immediately and taking another sip. He’s usually a bit more measured than this, but with the week Yu’s sure he’s had, he’ll allow him just about anything. “I could like, set the table?”

It is a little sweet, Yu decides, because he still doesn’t sound like he wants to, but it does sound like he’s making a genuine offer, and when Yu looks at him, he’s a little sheepish in the doorframe of the kitchen, free hand on the back of his neck. “If you’d like.”

Adachi just makes a beeline to where the plates and chopsticks are kept, as though he knows this kitchen like the back of his hand, gingerly gathering from one of the nicer, more ornate sets.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Adachi calls from the other room, setting out his items before he pads back to the kitchen and opens up the cabinet where they keep glasses. “I don’t know, like soda?”

For a moment, Yu really thought he might offer a beer, but it seems he still has a modicum of professionalism left. “Water’s great.”

Yu grabs the serving plate and bowl and leads them back to the kotatsu, their plates across from each other. Adachi’s already turned the TV to his nightly game shows. The sound is comforting and familiar in a way that reminds him of the man settling down opposite of him, and it feels strange how many loops he spent longing for a moment like this, a moment that’s starting to feel like just another Tuesday night.

“Thanks for dinner,” Adachi mutters. He picks up his chopsticks and reaches for another sea urchin immediately, dipping it in the sauce and cupping it with his hands as he brings it to his lips indelicately, putting the whole thing in. He only waits until it’s half-chewed before saying around the remainder, muffled, “You really didn’t have to.”

Yu reaches for a tuna nigiri. He’d shelled out on the quality for all the fish, not just the urchin, and it’s delicate and fatty when it hits his tongue, perfectly cut. “It’s not nice to lie to the elderly.”

Adachi snorts half-heartedly at that, finishing his bite with an impossibly long drink that must down more than half the can. “Is that some sort of dig at me?”

“No,” Yu replies simply. “Because you didn’t lie.”

Adachi takes another piece, but just holds it out on his chopsticks as he regards Yu across the table, eyebrows quirked and something twitching at his lips. “I guess I didn’t,” he says, before he moves to bring it to his lips.

They’re quiet for a moment after that, too busy eating to the soft sound of a quiz show in the background for much chatter, which is about the best compliment Yu can receive on his cooking as far as Adachi is concerned. He’s fast for someone who barely eats, or maybe he’s fast because of it, but Yu is satisfied with his two pieces of urchin and giving the rest to him with how much he enjoys it. Halfway through, he gets up for another beer, and then another after he’s finished eating, and Yu hopes Dojima won’t give Adachi too much hell for breaking into his stash.

After only a few stray pieces of sushi and a few bites of edamame remain that both of them are too full to finish, Adachi leans back against the couch with his beer in hand and sighs, ruffling his hair. “Man, maybe she’s right. This would be better if a pretty girl made me dinner alone.”

Yu surveys the glassiness that’s been building over his eyes throughout dinner, and wonders what’s going on behind them. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Adachi just shakes his head, propping one knee up to his chest while the other lays straight, his elbow across his knee as he drinks. “I’ll be lucky to find a girl that can cook half as well as you, though.” He nods towards the table, gesturing at it with a lazy lift of his foot. “You’re spoiling me, over here.”

Yu sets his chopsticks down and pushes his plate away to lean forward and study his face. He’s looking somewhere else, out towards the patio, maybe, and there’s a slight rise of pink across his cheeks from drink, bringing color to his otherwise pallid skin. It seems deep, to be just from a few beers—but Adachi is thin. Either way, it brightens up his face under the living room light, even if it’s drawn tight in a pinched sort of expression, thoughtful with a slight purse to his lips, uncomfortable.

“You didn’t really react when she brought that up earlier,” Yu says. The lines in Adachi’s narrow neck tighten, creating a prominent streak from his collarbone to his jaw, and his focus snaps to the TV, obscuring it behind the shadows and the bottom fringes of his hair. “Has no one in town caught your eye yet?”

It’s an honest question, but it hangs heavy in the air as soon as he asks it, landing with a clunk on the table between them with all the weight and grace of a boulder. Adachi’s entire body goes still, aside from the hand bringing the beer to his lips, and it loosens him a little when he swallows. But even as some motion returns to his body, his eyes are stagnant, glued to the TV, as he says, “I go for real knockouts, when it comes to girls. Inaba doesn’t have any hotties, you know what I mean?”

It’s stilted, and Yu just blinks at him, trying to determine if the cardboard delivery is from the drink or something else entirely, but the more he looks, the more he’s certain it’s some combination of the two. Adachi doesn’t give him long to think before the silence seems to unnerve him, and he clears his throat. “So, uh, what kind of girls are you into? Seems like you can have your pick of any chick you wanted, huh, seeing how popular you are.”

Yu figures now is as good a time as any to tell the truth. “I’m not… into women, really.”

“Oh,” Adachi says, like all the air’s been punched out of him. He straightens up from where he’s sitting, crossing his legs and letting them lay flat against the floor as he blinks at Yu, cloudy-eyed but intent, like he’s still processing his words as the seconds tick by. “Oh. That’s. Good for you.”

Yu’s struck by the strange realization that in all the loops, they’ve never really had this conversation before. It’s either come up in other ways, or it hasn’t, and while Yu knows there’s no part of Adachi that cares—honestly, he figured in most loops, he already knew by his general demeanor—he wondered, briefly, if it might add to the suffocating tension in the room, but instead, it seems to shatter its surface slightly. Yu finds himself laughing once despite himself. “Thanks, I guess.”

Adachi meets his eyes from across the table, and while they’re a little unfocused at the edges, he feels like he’s looking right into him, right through him, and a shiver goes up Yu’s spine. There’s electricity at his fingertips as Adachi leans back on the couch, highlighting the lazy curves of his body, and Yu feels his breath catch in his throat. Then the moment passes, and Adachi is looking at the TV again, leaving Yu with his hands digging into his thighs. The tension in the room has just transferred to his body, and it’s burning.

“Women are more trouble than they’re worth,” Adachi laughs, and the sound eases some of it, even as it's forced out. It’s close to something real, he thinks, deep down. “All that really matters for me is that they can cook. And besides, whoever it is will have to compete with you.”

Tohru Adachi has been unraveling him for years, and he doesn’t even know.

Chapter Text

It’s easy, too easy, if Yu knows the right buttons to push.

Adachi doesn’t fold so easily as if that physical boundary means nothing, and maybe that’s for the best, but when he does fold, it’s like origami, collapsing in on himself in cuts and creases. Yu learns slowly over time, how long he has to know him, how many nights they have to spend together, the right looks to send, the right level of coyness… Like so many things in his life, repetition makes it easy to break everything down to its bare essentials, equations for attention and lust.

He could have kissed him, and Adachi would have let him. The moment he knows it always strikes him, but none have felt stronger than this: Yu’s confession still stinging his lips and Adachi’s eyes half-lidded, something singing in the air and Yu’s hands twitching at his side, because he knows he could.

It happens first on lazy nights like these, where a break in conversation leads Yu across to where he’s sitting until they’re pressed almost side by side. He’d lower his voice when they talk until it’s almost a whisper, until Adachi’s looking at him with wide enough eyes for a long enough time, chewed lips parted and shining, and Yu would lean over, put his hands on his collar, and kiss him soft, tentative and exploring. He’d leave it chaste, just a taste, until Adachi would snap and kiss him back hard, biting, all tongue and teeth, and Yu can feel it now all the way to his toes, tingling.

When Yu blinks and looks up at him now, it’s from across the table, several feet between them, and Yu turns away, not trusting the distance to hide his thoughts. It’s a spiral once it starts, tactile memories of hands and tongues, and he shivers.

He could kiss him right now, get up and let his hands say everything his words can’t, everything they don’t know how to, but instead, he asks, “Can you make it home okay?”

If Adachi’s aware of the tension overtaking Yu, he doesn’t let on, shrugging and downing the last of his beer as he leans against the couch, languid and lazy. “It’s what, five blocks? I doubt I’ll see another car.”

Yu tries to shake off the part of him that wishes he’d said no. “If you say so.”

Yu could rob him blind as he’s standing up and press him against the wall. It’s so easy to imagine the noises he’d make—a squeak of surprise before a cut-off moan that Yu steals from his throat, a hum—and the way his hands would fall to Yu’s waist.

Yu helps him with his coat, and sees him out the door.

If kissing him was the way out of this mess, then they wouldn’t be here.

It dizzies him all the way through clean-up: visions of times before, visions of what it could have looked like just then, and his face feels hot from more than just the water in the sink, burning with a heat that hollows him out.

Part of him was convinced it might work—that with enough targeted intimacy the part of Adachi’s brain that’s keyed into his body would start to respond and change with the touch, but especially as time went on, Yu mostly just wanted to. It was easy; a touch here and there, and suddenly Adachi would let him wrap his hand around his dick underneath the table after everyone else had gone to bed, let him kiss his neck and whisper little hushes whenever he got close. Adachi rarely ever reciprocated, but that wasn’t the point.

He used to do it all the time, until he stopped.

As easy as Adachi is to fold, he was always reluctant to go further than a quick, messy blowjob in the dark, nothing as intense or intimate as actual sex, except a few times. He lost his virginity to him, after all.

Adachi texts him that he’s home safe, per his request, and after Yu finishes up the last of the dishes, he slinks up to his room, sits on the edge of the futon, half-hard, and puts his head in his hands.

When he closes his eyes, he sees snow.

It’s December, and he’s pushing hard, harder than he ever has. They’re touching more, stealing rough kisses in the hospital hallway where Yu doesn’t have to hide his lack of surprise in the face of Adachi’s darkened, flat eyes. He’s deliriously hoping that this will be the angle that clears them, this will be the moment that breaks what Yu’s failed to break a dozen and a half times before it.

It’s different, at least a little, in the sense that Adachi’s been pushing back, dragging him down to his knees and pressing his tongue past his teeth, and as exhilarating as it is, Yu knows—it’s too much, too fast, too rough, too cold. But even the facsimile is like water in the desert, and he laps it up from Adachi’s sharp jawline, heedless of how it cuts him.

He stands underneath the streetlight with Yosuke and Naoto, silent as the night. He rarely ever gets here. He’d rather end the loop than say his name. He knows it’s a mistake as he’s making it, but nothing is permanent. So he says nothing at all.

He makes his way to the police station through falling flurries of snow, numb through his fingertips beneath his gloves. When he reaches Adachi, his face is as cruel and distorted, and Yu throws his jacket over the chair before Adachi can object, shedding down to his thinnest layer.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?” Adachi says as he locks the door, raising a brow over eyes Yu doesn’t dare look at. Instead, he looks at the curve of his body beneath the blinking fluorescent lights, his narrow hips and his long limbs holding out a letter and a lighter. “Me.”

Yu shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this, but he’s always wondered what would happen if he did. His mouth feels dry, tight. He’s so tired of lying. “Yes.”

“Show me.”

With a pit in his chest and a suffocating heat in his stomach, Yu flicks the lighter, and for the first and last time, watches that letter go up in flames. From behind the fire, Adachi’s face dances, crazed and empty in a barking laugh, clutching his head in disbelief as ash crumbles to the floor between their feet.

Adachi’s on him the second the flame dissipates, hands over his wrists as he pins Yu’s body to the nearest wall, knees straddling Yu’s hips as he digs his nails into the flesh of Yu’s arms, laughing that rattling, staticky laugh.

“You did it,” he hisses, so close to Yu’s face he can feel his breath, fanning hot across his face, and he hates himself for the way his body reacts so automatically to the touch, wrapped up in live wire and aching with want even as his blood swirls cold. “I can’t believe you did it.”

He kisses him harsh, even for him, all teeth and tongue, graceless and biting. Dominating. Yu keens into it, chasing the center with a desperation that drives him to press their bodies together as tight as they can go, touching wherever he can touch, feeling whatever he can feel. It’s not nearly enough before Adachi pushes them back and leads them over to the bed, shoving Yu onto the unforgiving mattress like a ragdoll before climbing on top, crooked tie falling across the length of Yu’s prone neck. He’ll walk away with bruises.

“Have you ever done this before?” Adachi asks once Yu’s shirt and pants are in an unceremonious pile on the floor. Adachi’s still perfectly dressed save for his outer suit jacket, tie, and now belt, working it off with one hand as he presses down hard into Yu’s chest with the other, all jerking movements and labored breath. His voice barely sounds like his own, but Yu doesn’t even know what that sounds like, anymore.

“If I said no, would you stop?” Yu asks, hating how badly he needs what’s next no matter the cost.

He pretends to think, but it’s only for show, and he knows Yu knows it, too. “No,” Adachi says, peering down at him curious and mean, like he could eat him whole and Yu’d let him.

“Then it doesn’t matter,” Yu says, because it doesn’t. This is what he asked for. This is what he’ll get.

When Adachi fucks him, it’s nothing like he thought his first time would be, but Yu’s already come to terms with that. He calls him his given name by accident and Adachi all but rips it out of his mouth. When Yu comes before him, overstimulated in a too-young body and spent, Adachi is merciless, grabbing onto Yu’s neck from where he’s hitting into him over and over from behind and pulling his head up despite Yu’s whine of pain, but even with the sickly ache in him, he’s still half-hard again by the time Adachi finishes, pushing Yu back down to the mattress and pulling out roughly.

Before Adachi can escape, Yu turns over and traps him with his thighs, pulling him down with arms over his bony shoulders until their faces are just inches apart and he can examine his eyes. Adachi’s face is flushed with exertion and sex, and though his pupils are still wide with arousal, there’s a flat coldness at the center, and Yu can’t deny he feels the same. Lifeless. Hopeless. Clinging to a self-destructive fantasy that's getting them nowhere.

Yu doesn’t even bother to get dressed before he bashes his head into the side of the bed frame and ends the loop, so tired of looking at those dead eyes he could scream.

And he does, at least a little, into his hands now in the empty house in May.

He could have kissed him, and Adachi would have let him, but some things aren’t worth the chase. It never got him anywhere, and there’s no second chances anymore. He can’t crack his skull just to start it all over. But he wanted to. He wanted to, and that alone…

Morning comes, and he throws himself into May with his whole body.

Finally, spring brings the release of moments he knows like the back of his hand. The first week is prep for exams Yu could take in his sleep, so he spends his afternoons tutoring the rest of the group over steak at Junes, and his evenings with the adults he knows or working for extra cash he doesn’t need. The group is too grateful for his knowledge to be any the wiser on why he has so much of it, and Yu takes some pride in knowing he’ll boost their exam scores by a significant margin, if history holds.

The end of the first week is Mother’s Day, and Yu dons his Sunday best to go out with Nanako early in the morning to put flowers on Chisato’s grave. She put on her nicest dress just to kneel down in the dirt to arrange each flower perfectly, and Yu just lowers down next to her.

“You’re lucky you have a mom,” Nanako says after minutes upon minutes of quiet as she stares at the gravestone, and those too-close dates. “I bet she does laundry and cooks dinner and reads you books.”

Yu can’t bring himself to break her heart anymore than it already is this morning, so instead he says, “Yours is watching over you, right now.”

“Yeah,” Nanako says, and that seems to make her feel a little better. “You’re right.”

Yu just hopes he won’t be another thing that lets her down.

His calendar continues to flip over, and on it, the day of Kanji’s disappearance looms closer and closer without a single stir. Yu runs into him in the hallway, his friends in tow, halfway through exam week. The rumors about him are already starting to swirl, his fellow first years giving him a wide berth in the hallway, and even Yosuke and Chie turn to mutter to each other about his presumed character when they catch sight of his shock blonde hair.

Yu steps in front and waves at Kanji who, despite the dark circles under his eyes and a welling scar across his cheek, gives a little wave and something curiously close to a smile.

“Hey,” Kanji greets in a grunt as Yu passes, and Yu slows to meet him. Kanji shoves his hands in his pockets. “Have you seen my mom recently?”

“About a week ago,” Yu responds, feigning innocence to the nature of the question. “Why?”

Kanji rubs at his nose, slouching against the nearby wall and glancing at Yu’s friends with an upturned nose before sighing and continuing, eyes averted. “Do you mind checking up on her next time you can?”

“Not at all.” Yu smiles softly. He can feel three sets of eyes across his back, but he ignores them, focusing instead on the creases of worry inside the tough, angry lines of Kanji’s face. “What’s up?”

Kanji glances back at the other three again, but if he’s hoping to send a message, it’s lost on them, too busy staring and whispering amongst each other. Yu takes a step closer so Kanji can lower his voice, leaning against the same wall. Only then does Kanji reply, and it’s muffled behind his sleeve.

“There’s these uh, bike gangs,” Kanji mutters, gaze off at a window behind Yu’s head. He doubts the others can hear at this point, but Kanji still looks wary of it, rolling his eyes and rubbing at his shoulder. “They keep getting closer and closer to her shop. It’s stressing her out, and uh, I’ve been busy, so…”

Yu nods and gives him a reassuring glance, stepping to the side back closer to his friends to give him some space. “I’ll pay her a visit.”

Kanji scratches at the back of his head, slouching and slinking down the hallway in the opposite direction Yu found him heading in as they approached. “Thanks, man.”

Once he’s safely out of earshot, Yosuke turns to him as they continue back up to the second year floor and says, “You seem to be pretty friendly with that guy.”

“I heard he’s in a biker gang,” Chie stage-whispers, embarrassingly loud despite the poor attempt at a hushed tone. Yu stifles a sigh. “Do you really know his mom?”

Yu takes the more tactful route of waiting until they’re safely on the second floor to answer that, leading them into the classroom and towards their seats for the morning. “I frequent their textile shop, so I know the family.”

“We get our uniforms from there,” Yukiko remarks, opening up her textbooks for a bit of last minute studying. Yu would normally bother to at least pretend to do the same, but his mind is elsewhere. “He used to be so different when he was younger.”

She’ll find he’s not that different at all, but only in time.

Exams roll on, and of course, nothing is ever as predictable and easy as Yu would like, not this time around. The differences are minor—in fact, besides his better acquaintance with Kanji, there’s only one thing that seems to be off—but it’s stark, and it leaves a hole that gnaws at Yu all week. According to his calendar, Naoto should have arrived by now. It makes sense that he hasn’t, of course; there aren’t any murders wracking this small town, only a string of fairly low-profile disappearances, so his presence isn’t needed. That’s the fear, though, because as each day goes by, the worry that he’s somehow written him out of the equation grows, and he’s never had a loop where all of his bonds weren’t accessible. He misses him more by the day.

History repeats itself again, though, when May 13th rolls around and Kanji appears on the nightly news, incorrectly accused of his rumored bike gang membership but as hostile to the news station as ever. His bleach blonde hair and well-worn leather jacket, abrasive attitude, loud and rude as he addresses the camera may fool the crowds at home, but with all of Yu’s knowledge, he just sees a child, scared and trying to protect his family in the only way he knows how. Even on screen, he can see he’s tired, his aggression more like a wounded animal caught in a trap and lashing out. It makes him feel Kanji’s anger at the goading news anchor all too well.

It’s a rare night when Dojima’s home for dinner, and he sighs at the TV, tired and distracted, bringing with him Junes instant noodles. They taste like salt, but Nanako’s happy and Yu didn’t have to cook it, so as far as he’s concerned, it’s delicious.

“He goes to your school, doesn’t he?” Dojima asks as the segment switches back to the anchor room, after having to blur out Kanji flipping off the camera. He doesn’t blame him. “Do you know him?”

“I do,” Yu says plainly, stirring his noodles. “He’s not that bad, actually.”

Dojima gives a curt hum at that but just takes a sip of his beer, brows smoothing over a little when it goes to commercial.

That night, a silhouette with slicked back hair and a distinctive jacket appears posing and punching through the TV waves, the rain pounding wet and heavy drops against the window. Yosuke calls him first, as always, and just as he’s speculating aimlessly about who it could be, Yu gets the buzz of a text message in his ear, and he pulls the phone just far away enough to read it.

It’s that Tatsumi kid, obviously, it reads, from Adachi.

Yu feels the corners of his lips curl up as he texts back quickly, Of course. Out loud, he relays this information to Yosuke. It’s nice to have someone else who’s quick to the draw.

“Oh,” Yosuke says, closing his mouth with a pop. “I guess Adachi might be right, then.”

He doesn’t sound particularly enthused, but it’s an innocent sort of distaste, one borne mostly from concern and only slightly laced by who is vindicated by it, and Yu finds it a bit amusing. They decide to discuss it further tomorrow, and Yu forwards the message on to the rest of the team, leaving Yu to put another X on the calendar and turn it in for the night.

After the first loop, Yu’s been armed with substantially more information than necessary for Teddie to find Kanji’s location inside the TV without much extra effort on their part. Sometimes, if Yu’s bored, he’ll insist on leading them on a stakeout anyway just to make sure they have all the necessary information to face Kanji inside, but with no Naoto, and Yu more eager than ever to align the necessary pieces, he sees no reason to drag it out. Yu’s subtle insistence that there’s very little that can be done shy of warning him, after an initial meeting with all of them, still leaves them insisting on a little bit of reconnaissance, and Yu doesn’t blame them. The wait in-between makes him restless too, even though he knows the end.

They conspicuously wait to suggest staking him out until after Adachi leaves. Yu doesn’t co-sign nor make any real attempt to stop it—he knows it’s pointless, but he doesn’t trust the optics of trying to stop it, either, and that’s how he finds himself the next day still, as if it were the first loop, pressed behind a tree with Yukiko near the shrine, her watching with all the intensity of a real criminal investigation as Kanji waltzes down the street with a soda in hand. Thankfully, he’s more clued in to Yosuke and Chie on top of each other behind a telephone pole than Yu off to the side, letting Chie and Yosuke take the brunt of his anger while Yu slides over to say hello to the fox, encouraging Yukiko to come over and playing innocent with him while the chaos unfolds behind him. It’s best if Kanji doesn’t associate him with this nonsense.

Yu busies himself with scratching behind the fox’s ears while Kanji chases his friends around the street for a while, until everyone involved tires themselves out. Somewhere in there, Yu hopes Yosuke and Chie remembered to give him the actual warning to be careful and keep an eye out these following days, but regardless, the cogs of fate will almost undoubtedly work the same, for whatever confidence he still has in that.

Later that night, he gets a text from Adachi while he’s cleaning a bedroom of the hospital reading, What in the hell were you kids doing today?

I wasn’t doing anything, Yu texts back when he gets the chance, shielding his body from the open door as he types. What my friends do is none of my business.

He’s onto the next room before he gets the reply. I’m having to file the noise complaint paperwork.

Out of respect for Adachi’s already mountainous stacks of work he knows Dojima already thrusts upon him, he waits until the next few rooms are done to text back his half-hearted apology of, So sorry.

Adachi just texts him a picture of a stack of papers, which forces Yu to stifle a laugh and he has to put his phone away, lest he get caught, but that’s just as well. They both have work to do.

The 17th rolls around, and it’s raining again, hard and long when midnight is on the verge of striking. On the screen, Shadow Kanji is how he always is: flamboyant and sensual, speech filled with double-entendres in a lisping lilt, stereotypical in all the ways the real one would shy from. Yu watches him with his hand on his cheek as Kanji introduces his bathhouse and entices the viewer to come in closer, blushing and batting his long eyelashes before dancing and disappearing into the steam.

The calls are a bit slower to come, Yu counting to almost a full thirty seconds after the picture ends before his phone goes off, and Yosuke is a stuttering, sputtering mess on the other end of the line as he always is, trying and failing to hide his flustered reaction to such a brazen display of sexuality. The girls, for their part, text them unfazed that they’ll meet tomorrow, but it’s Adachi’s reaction he’s interested in, and he has to wait the longest for it, so long he wonders if Adachi is either still at the station or has already gone to bed with the assumption Yu would fill him in in the morning.

It comes a few minutes later, though. I knew it was the Tatsumi kid.

Yu won’t let him get off that easy, so he calls him instead of replying, waiting until he hears the line connect and Adachi clear his throat on the other line in wait before he says, “So. You caught that?”

“Obviously,” Adachi replies, yawning into the receiver without an attempt to mitigate the sound. “I was making a call to the station to see if anyone had turned in any new reports.”

Yu switches the hold of the phone in his hand, leaning forward on his knees. He turns the TV off, and the lack of white noise makes the rain suddenly pound against the glass, covering him with the sound. It’s cleansing, in a way. “Was there anything?”

Adachi’s quiet for a moment, and it’s still in the background of his apartment, nothing but the slight buzz of his breath on the other end. In the end, he hums, and Yu hears shuffling, like he’s turning over on his couch, and he can imagine him now, splayed out, his own TV turned off beside him too. “Yeah, actually. The kid’s mom had just come in.”

“What’d you say?” Yu asks.

“Nothing, of course,” Adachi scoffs softly, voice low, like he’ll be heard even completely alone. It’s hard to hear over the rain, even pressed flush to his ear, and he wants his voice closer. “I’m not supposed to know anything. I’m just trying to figure out how much work I have to do tomorrow.”

“Right,” Yu agrees, lowering his own voice too on reflex, conspiratory. “So we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”

Adachi agrees with an exhale, and Yu can almost feel the breath as if were fanning across his own face rather than through the phone. “Tomorrow.”

Under the Junes umbrellas the next day, it’s still cloudy, but the rain has cleared up, and Yu finds himself missing it, even knowing what it brings. Still, the sky hangs low and heavy, and Adachi looks haggard by the time he shows up to meet them, hair all askew.

“Why did I agree to split my time?” he asks as he sits down next to Yu, slumping into his seat with a dramatic sigh, caffeinated soda in hand. Yu knows he secretly prefers it to coffee. “I barely have enough for the station.”

Yukiko, innocent to the rhetorical nature of the question, looks up from her conversation with Chie to say, “So you can help us with the investigation.”

Adachi loosens the fall of his suit jacket, looking for airflow despite the slight nip of the air around them. He lifts an eyebrow, saying, “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“Sure,” she replies, and Yu smiles behind his own drink, because he hadn’t really thought of it before, but seeing them interact—with Yukiko’s terminal straightforwardness and Adachi’s penchant for underhand remarks—is quite the combination. “Three’s enough to qualify for a pattern, yes?”

Yosuke nods at her side, crossing his legs as he leans his head back, taking a sip of smoothie. “I’ll say. I think this proves it.”

There’s a subtle, unusual weight to the rest of the table. While it is not one he feels himself, he thinks understands, seeing it. What’s inevitable for him is a confirmation for them, a final nail in the coffin that the events thus far not only hold water as a pattern, but have become a harbinger for further victims, and while Kanji always fills this slot for the rest of them, Yu can’t help but wonder if the reason it feels different now is sitting right next to them, lending extra gravity to the situation with his mere presence.

Yu had passed on the information of the report as soon as he’d gotten it, and while they would have found out on their own sooner rather than later, perhaps the extra night to think has weighed on them just slightly. Yu finds himself once again caught in the crevices between his expectations and reality. He almost misses the conversation entirely, letting their voices drift in and out as they discuss the details, only barely catching himself being addressed in time to respond to it.

“That’s why we have to stick together,” he hears Chie say, decibels louder than the rest as usual and drawing him a little bit out of his own head. His thoughts begin to quiet just slightly. “We’re the only ones who know the full truth. Isn’t that right, Leader?”

Yu startles a little at the use of the title, turning towards her. “Right.”

“We’re like an own unofficial crime unit,” Yukiko giggles, gesturing lazily at Adachi across the table before hiding her lips behind her fingers. “Our own, real Investigation Team.”

Yosuke grins, something lighting up in his eyes. “Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

Adachi balks a little. Yu has to turn to hide his expression, because when they put the pieces together on that one every loop, he doesn’t trust his face not to betray whatever emotions are falling across it.

Adachi just scoffs, holding out a hand. “Emphasis on the unofficial.”

That doesn’t dissuade the sudden flash of energy and excitement across the three faces staring back at them, but Adachi should know better than that.

Inside the TV, Teddie is in a state, one that is only marginally improved with the opportunity to meet a new member officially. Yukiko is always one of his favorites—she’s gentle with him but teasing like a sister, and the dynamic is effortless and immediate. He perks up a bit from where he’s moping in the studio corner upon their arrival in curiosity, but it’s clear something has a hold on him, even during introductions.

Yu wonders if Yukiko’s hard laugh over the gag glasses might shake him out of it. All it does is put a wide-eyed, mildly horrified expression on Adachi’s face, and seems to spook Teddie more than anything, but he seems all himself as he proudly brandishes the real pair, at least for a moment.

Now truly acquainted with Yukiko, Teddie shuffles, kicking at the floor in frustrated little bursts with his paws balled up at his side. The rest of the group instinctively waits for him to speak in order to proceed, turning to him like an audience. “My nose is all stuffed up.”

Yu frowns; this conversation doesn’t always happen here. More often than not it’s been pushed back, and he’s not sure where it leads in this placement anymore. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t smell anything!” Teddie whines, grabbing at his mascot face with one of his paws, face all scrunched up in distress as he shakes his head. “It’s like there’s so much going on inside my little bear head that I can’t make sense of any scent! Besides, whatever I can smell reeks!”

Adachi pulls a face at Yu’s side. “So you can’t smell but you can?”

“I can smell but I can’t smell,” Teddie says, like that clarifies everything, speaking with his paws to delineate the supposed difference. “I can’t tell what anything is or where anything is coming from, it’s all muddy! For example, I know something got dropped in here that smells like sweat and desperation, but I have no idea where it’s coming from!”

Yu doesn’t have the energy for more reconnaissance, frankly, so he tries a different approach. “What’s going on inside your head?”

Teddie looks up at them for the first time since introductions, peering up at Yu like he’s a little shocked at the question, and he can imagine the flush that would fall across his human’s form’s face. He suddenly misses his presence around the Junes table too, enough for it to sting.

“I’m not sure,” he says after a long moment where he continues to kick at the floor, paws behind his back. He has a thoughtful little line across his face, like he’s really putting whatever brain power he has into the question and still coming up short. “I guess I never used to think about things before you guys came along, but now I think all the time, and it’s really tiring! I’m asking myself all sorts of things, like where I come from, and why this place exists, and I don’t know any of the answers. It’s so hard to concentrate!”

Teddie, for all his eccentricities, is consistently somehow one of the most relatable people Yu has ever met. He smiles softly, and tries to think how to formulate a Teddie-appropriate response to those questions, but before he can reply, another voice cuts in behind him.

“Tell me about it,” Adachi drawls, and Yu looks over to see him roll his eyes, arms crossed. “It keeps us all up at night.”

Teddie just blinks up at him with his cartoon eyes and asks, “Really?”

Adachi shrugs, scratching at the back of his head. “Most people.”

Yu bites down on the corners of his lips to keep a small huff of laughter from escaping. “I’d agree with that.”

“And it’s tiring as hell.” Adachi gives an exaggerated whine into a yawn, the latter of which Yu isn’t entirely sure he fakes. “Welcome to life, or whatever.”

Teddie considers this as if it were a deep academic quandary, scratching at where his chin would be on his suit and pacing a bit before he decides, “So that means I’m like you guys?”

Adachi flicks his wrist out from where his arms are crossed, dismissing, “Sure.”

This seems to please Teddie, and he grins wide, rocking back and forth on his feet in a little excited tic. He opens his mouth to speak again, but Adachi cuts him off, adding, “But we think someone else got thrown in here, so we could use that nose of yours to work.”

Teddie nods at this. “Oh, so that smell is from your world.” He sniffs the air again, curling his snout. “I could try again?”

Adachi finally seems to notice Yu staring at the side of his face, transfixed at how easy he’s making this all seem, but his eyes only flicker to him for just a moment before he turns back to Teddie, imploring, “Please.”

The rest of the group stands back as Teddie folds his hands behind his back and sniffs the air, spinning in circles around the studio with closed eyes, a thoughtful line on his lips. After a few seconds of this, he reels back with a disgusted expression, balking. “Eugh, I think I found it out.”

“Really?” Yosuke asks, speaking up for the first time in a few minutes. Yu looks over to find him also staring between Adachi and Teddie, though he doesn’t seem to share the level of concern over the situation that Yu has.

“Adachy-baby must have knocked something loose!” Teddie proclaims, holding out one of his bear digits and tapping on his own head for demonstration. “Why don’t you guys bring him every time? He’s a smart cookie!”

“Because you call me Adachy-baby,” Adachi says immediately.

Teddie just laughs, and doesn’t ask for the real reason before leading them down a studio catwalk and into the fog.

Steam wafts up through wooden slots in waves, thick and fragrant underneath Yu’s collar, beading sweat beneath his brow. They haven’t even entered the dungeon yet, still at the entrance, but Yosuke is already in the midst of a minor crisis, half-hiding behind Chie and tugging helplessly on her sleeve, while Adachi just stands there, staring at the opening to the bathhouse and the MEN ONLY sign hanging above the door with an unreadable expression. The only ones who look unaffected are Chie and Yukiko, who just wave the opening of their collars in the same way Yu is to get a breeze, and of course, as always, Teddie just seems happy for the chance to eradicate the offensive scent—which, up close, even Yu can smell. It’s some mix of men’s cologne and sweat, and as unpleasant as it is to his own nose, he can only imagine Teddie’s experience with it.

“Is this… what I think it is?” Yosuke asks warily, like a deflating balloon. Chie kicks at him and he’s dislodged from the safety of her human shield, dodging behind Teddie instead, who is a bit more tolerant of his presence.

“A nude bathhouse for men?” Adachi infers, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his fingers on his elbows. From where they’re standing still side by side, Yu can see that he’s clutching at the sleeve of his jacket a little too tightly, pulling the fabric a bit taut, but his face is even, only a little pinched at the corners. “Seems like it.”

Yu wasn’t going to say it so bluntly, but now that someone has, it’s at least out in the open. And there’s nothing left to do but head inside.

They don’t stay long—they never do the first time they go through a dungeon, and especially with Adachi on their team, he has to be even more cognizant than usual of the time and its effect on the party constitution. Besides, no one looks in the least like they want to be here, overheating and subject to Kanji’s strange, goading voice, even if Yu himself has grown used to it and is no more or less bothered by this place than anywhere else.

It’s really just to look around the first time, so after a lap around the first two floors, Yu pulls back and instructs everyone home, leaving the rest for the days after.

When those days come, the world doesn’t stop for him. It’s exhausting, and he’d forgotten just how tiring it can be. Truly, the only time he’s put this much effort into everything was the first few loops—once failure started to become the norm, he focused his efforts almost exclusively on Adachi and his inner circle, and expanding it to the connections he knows he wants, needs to keep with him for real, keeps him strapped down to the second. It’s a familiar feeling, but one that’s grown rusty, and flexing it in the midst of another mission has him running on fumes. But that’s nothing he’s not accustomed to in general.

The dungeon itself is easy enough—for him, at least—but it’s sharply more difficult than the one before it for the rest of the party, and the heavy lifting occasionally makes him break a sweat in the heat, especially without Adachi around for most of it. He summons him only once while climbing the actual structure, for a locked room in the middle level. When Kanji appears, in nothing but a towel, of course, with blushing cheeks and an exaggerated lisp, Adachi barely reacts beyond a sort of fish-like gaping when he takes turns hitting on the three men in the party, while Yosuke sputters and flails, and Yu remains impassive. Kanji, as dear as he is, has always been just a friend. The unspoken, obvious subject of the dungeon hangs over them, unaddressed, but that’s just as well, even if Adachi looks hot under the collar the entire time he’s there.

He sneaks in time after school, after another few floors have been crawled, to catch up with Kou and Daisuke, and honestly to use the opportunity to blow off physical steam that doesn’t involve some form of mortal danger. He catches sight of Ai as she’s introduced, finally, as the team manager, and another piece of the puzzle clicks with relief. The steady accumulation of familiar faces is enough to make up for his lack of sleep. Luckily, he doesn’t need to do much with his nights—the nature of Yomi is that too much time in there would make Adachi conspicuously powerful, conspicuously fast, and he knows Adachi is just as hard up for rest as he is. That leaves him open to something close to free time, or as close to free time as it gets, so he finds himself at Shiroku for the chance to snag some free bait in exchange for work on the eve of arriving at Kanji’s Shadow, washing dishes on a relatively slow night.

And he finds Adachi there, too. He shows up towards the very end of his shift, probably when Adachi was allowed out of the station himself despite the late hour, and sits down at the bar, close enough that Yu’s in his direct line of sight. Funnily enough, he takes the seat where Sayoko had just sat about a half hour earlier, after getting off of her own shift and venting to Yu about work—a side of her he hasn’t seen in ages and bizarrely kind of missed—but in contrast to her exuberance, Adachi is silent as he sips on his drink, even as they both know they can see each other. Maybe they’re both still at work, in a way.

It’s only when Yu is wrapping up his closing dishes that Adachi speaks up, his own, singular drink finished down to nothing with one last sip. “Do you want me to walk you home?”

Yu looks to Old Lady Shiroku, who nods, and so Yu turns to Adachi and does the same, untying his apron. “Sure.”

Adachi tries to make small talk on the quiet, late-night walk from the Shopping District to the Dojima house, but it doesn’t really work. Halfway through, he clicks his tongue and cuts to the chase, asking low, “So are you really… you’re gay, right?”

Yu doesn’t require that much lead-up for that question, so he just answers, “Yeah, I am.”

Adachi looks at him, owlish, before shrugging and putting his hands in his pockets, leaning back in an attempt to be casual. “Have you always known?”

Yu thinks about this, but he doesn’t have to think long. His case was fairly straightforward—he snuck around playing with dolls as a kid, fantasized about playing housewife, the whole nine yards. It didn’t take him long to find out there’s only so many sexualities a boy who stringently wanted a husband by age eight could be, and regardless of whether or not it was acceptable, there was really nothing that could hide it, either. It’s just another reason, among many, someone could find him lacking. “Basically.”

“Huh,” Adachi says, leading them down the turn towards the residential neighborhoods. “So I guess everything we might see tomorrow you’ve already been through.”

Adachi picking up what Kanji is throwing down is not surprising, but nor has it been particularly subtle. Still, he’s the first one to address it outright. “More or less.”

“Well,” Adachi breathes out as they approach Dojima’s house. The only sound in the night besides their voices is the sound of bugs chirping and a slight breeze through the trees and telephone wire. “I’ll let you take it away, Leader.”

Yu can’t read Adachi’s expression for the life of him when he turns to walk in towards the house, but under the streetlight, Yu swears he sees a slight smile.

Chapter Text

May begins to melt into June, and Inaba is uncharacteristically quiet.

Yu avoids leading the group to Kanji until Adachi has another day off, and in the time it takes, Yu keeps his ears and eyes peeled around town. He’s never really awarded himself a beat of silence in between the dungeon and the Shadow before—he’s sometimes smashed through the dungeons all in one exhausting day just to get them over with. The time to breathe reveals something deeply unsettling that he noticed with Yukiko, but seems to be even more pronounced with Kanji: the silence.

Inaba talks, of course, it’s not as if people stalk the streets in a zombified stupor—that’s only later. The housewives still chatter and whisper, the men still talk over drinks, the kids in the hallways still gossip; but no one, not a single person, has commented on anything at all being amiss. After a quick blip of coverage from the nightly news the first few nights Kanji went missing, not even the television has had anything to say about one of the town’s own children vanishing, and on the streets, it’s as if he never existed at all. When it was murders, he swore it was all the town ever talked about. The only time he hears Kanji’s name is from his friends' lips, or his own.

He brings this up to his friends as they make their way towards the Shopping District in the last days of May, the sun dripping heat down across their backs. It’ll turn into rain in the coming days, but for now, he licks around a cone of soft-serve he’d gotten from Junes, and says, “I spoke to the lady I get seeds from today. She’s friends with Kanji’s mother.”

Yosuke laps at his hand where some of his own cone melted across it, peering at Yu sideways. “Oh?”

Yu sighs. The heat and humidity are beginning to wear at him now that the days are growing longer and longer, sharply, as if winter had just left. “She didn’t mention Kanji at all.”

“Not even my mother has brought him up,” Yukiko frowns, sipping at a rather large cup of lemonade in lieu of ice cream. “It’s weird.”

“I’ll say,” Chie says, fanning herself with her hand even though her outer layers have long been slung around her waist. She licks at the last of her cone, tipping it towards her.

“This is so wrong,” Yosuke objects. “Just because the bike gangs are gone doesn’t mean someone disappearing is a good thing.”

“Adachi said some of the officers down at the station are actually glad,” Yu offers, feeling his face curl in disgust. “They want him to stay gone. All they care about is that there’s no more bike gangs.”

“He’s a person.” Chie stomps into each step. “Someone’s life isn’t about convenience.”

They round the corner towards the upper half of the Shopping District, and as Yu looks down at his phone to check the time, he hears Yukiko hiss through her teeth. “Speaking of weird…”

Just as the upper half of the district comes into view, so does a familiar face, hunched over near the entrance of Tatsumi Textiles. Yu hasn’t thought about him in ages—he’s hardly a relevant part of the loops—but he is a fixture, and he’d recognize the greasy hair and pallid, mole-pocked face of Mitsuo Kubo anywhere. It’s been so long since he’s seen him that Yu had almost forgotten he existed, but now he watches him pace back and forth along a small patch of sidewalk, muttering to himself in that gravely, monotonous voice.

Chie crosses the street immediately and drags Yukiko with her, Yu and Yosuke following in her stead. Hardly bothering to worry about being in earshot, Yosuke asks, “Who’s that?”

“I think his name is Mitsuo or something,” Chie whispers back, doing a terrible job of being inconspicuous as they pass him on the opposite side. Luckily for them, he seems immersed in his own little world, staring at the ground without a single flicker of interest as they pass. “He’s a total creep.”

Yukiko, the only one doing a halfway decent job of keeping her voice down and her eyes averted elsewhere, supplies, “I’ve run into him at the Inn before. He was… persistent.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Chie whispers darkly, picking up the pace and all but jogging down the street. Yu follows her without hesitation, eager to put as much distance between them as possible. He’s always found Mitsuo to be deeply, uniquely unnerving. “He kept asking her out and wouldn’t leave her alone.”

Yosuke eventually gets the memo to catch up. “Ew.”

They round the next corner as quickly as possible, but when Yu spares a glance over his shoulder, Mitsuo’s eyes are boring right into the backs of their heads, and he gets the feeling they weren’t fast or quiet enough. Still, they’re out of sight and hopefully out of mind.

It’s a relief to find that they’re not entirely alone in their concern for Kanji when someone taps Yu on the shoulder on his way to class the next day, catching him just before he can head up the stairs.

“Have you heard from Kanji?” Naoki asks, grabbing his wrist with bony fingers before dropping it like he hadn’t meant to do it at all. His eyes are wide with genuine worry. “It’s been days.”

Yu wishes he could tell the truth, but instead, he just shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m worried too.”

Naoki nods sadly, but adjusts the strap of his bookbag and says, “Well, alright. Tell me if you hear anything.”

If nothing else, Yu is just thankful someone else will be glad to see him come home soon.

Adachi texts him that he has the night and into the next day off, and since Yu is already out, he tells him to meet him by Samegawa, half-expecting he’ll just refuse. To his surprise, he sees a shadow fall across the floodplain from above about twenty minutes later, and Yu lowers his fishing pole to see the silhouette of Adachi standing on the sidewalk, outer suit jacket slung over his shoulder and two fingers pulling at his collar as he looks down at where Yu’s sitting on the pier. Yu gives a little wave and gestures for him to come over, which he does after a minute, toeing down the steps to shuffle over to Yu’s side.

“Can you not hear it down here?” he calls as he climbs down.

Yu reels his line back in. “Hear what?”

“There’s a cat up there,” Adachi informs him, the slight early summer breeze whipping the stray pieces of his hair across his forehead as he turns towards the plain, gesturing with his shoulder. Yu’s eyes follow him and come to rest on the side of Adachi’s face, a little flushed from the humidity. “It won’t stop meowing, and it’s loud as hell. It didn’t look like it belonged to anyone.”

“Was it orange?” Yu asks, and Adachi nods. Yu folds up his pole and slides it back into his tackle bag—he wasn’t having the best of luck tonight anyway, nor was he trying that hard. It was mostly just to clear his head in a moment of solitude, but Adachi is never an unwelcome interruption. “It’s a stray, I think. It hangs out around here a lot. Want to go feed it with me?”

Adachi makes a face, but steps back to let Yu rise to his feet and rearrange his bag until he can zip it up and sling it over his shoulder. Adachi crosses his arms over his chest. “Is that a good idea?”

Yu shrugs, fishing around in his bag for his bento where he has some uneaten salmon from lunch. He often packs extra on the assumption that someone or something else will want it. “It needs to eat.”

“I guess you have a point,” Adachi sighs and scratches at the side of his head, stifling a yawn poorly. Yu leads them up the stairs, and sure enough, the same cat as always is pacing the floodplain, skinny legs strutting back and forth as it meows, long and pathetic, into the night. When it sees Yu move toward it and kneel down, it perks up immediately, trotting to him and curling around his knees. “But see? It’s all attached to you. It expects things.”

That’s one way to interpret it, cynically, but Yu scratches the cat behind the ears as it meows. “Because it knows I take care of it.”

He holds the salmon out to the cat, who takes it gently but enthusiastically with its teeth before backing up to tear into it. Yu takes out a second piece of salmon and repeats the motion, aware of Adachi’s eyes cutting into his side while his full attention remains on the creature in front of him. Purring, it curls its head into his hand when he reaches out, and Yu smiles at the soft warmth of its fur.

“You can pet it, if you want,” Yu offers, turning to Adachi, who has a look on his face like he’s lost somewhere else despite the intensity of his focus.

He stirs a little, then looks at the cat, and then back to Yu before slowly leaning down to pet its back once. He rests his hand there, then pets it again. The cat gives a little meow at the abruptness of the touch, but it doesn’t run. Instead, it takes a seat in between them, like it’s all the happier for twice the attention. Slowly, Adachi lowers to his knees, placing his own bag at his side, and the cat rolls over on the grass, showing its stomach and stretching out in an invitation.

Adachi takes it, though he does so absently, scratching it as he turns to Yu. “So, you’re a cat person?”

Yu tries to hide the smile that threatens to break his face at the sight of it all, burying his head down as he scratches at the cat’s chin, relishing in the way it leans into his fingers. “I guess you could say that. I don’t dislike dogs, but I prefer cats.”

“Huh.” Adachi sinks down a little further on his heels. “I guess I’d be a cat person, then. I hate dogs. You know, I got bit by one when I was first starting out, in the city.” He looks back down at the cat. “I never had pets either way, though.”

“Me neither,” Yu confesses, listening to the rhythmic purr of the creature underneath his hands. It stretches out again even further, and Yu watches out of the corner of his eye as Adachi pets it, soft and steady. “My parents never let me. But I like their personalities more, I think.”

Adachi tries to wrap his finger lazily around the cat’s tail, which it knocks him away from. He frowns, but goes back to petting its stomach. “Why?”

“People say dogs are more straightforward, but I think cats are pretty honest,” Yu says after a moment of contemplation, watching as the cat’s eyes slowly start to close, now that everyone is playing by its rules. “They have their own language, but once you learn it, it’s not hard.”

“Aren’t they a little…” Adachi scratches at its spine and it curls with an indignant meow, but leans into the touch. As he traces down the vertebrae, though, it shimmies its body along the grass away from him. “Finicky? Standoffish?”

Yu pets the top of the cat’s head, its eyes opening a little as it stirs. “There’s nothing wrong with that,” he says, lifting his hand momentarily as it rolls over and crawls to sit between them again, tail swishing back and forth. “It’s all about learning them and their behavior. If you do that, they’ll reward you.”

Adachi reaches out towards it, but it’s Yu’s hand it turns its head into when Yu moves to do the same, leaning into his palm while Adachi settles for petting its back again with a small frown. “How?”

“With loyalty,” Yu says, simply. He holds out his finger, and as if on command, it licks him, rough tongue tickling his skin. He thanks it with a smile and scratches right where it likes it best, right underneath its jaw, and it preens under the attention. “You get to see their warmth.”

Adachi hums absently, staring at something behind Yu’s shoulder as his hand moves, just as Yu makes his way around to pet its head again. Their hands accidentally touch over its body, and the pads of Adachi’s fingers drag across the top of his hand. It takes both of them a moment to pull back from the touch, and in that space, something flips in Yu’s chest, his skin lighting up at each point of contact. Yu, though a bit dazed, is somehow still faster to break it than Adachi. He’s still looking somewhere off in the distance until the last second of connection, when he gives a jump and a muttered apology, pulling both his hands back.

“It’s fine,” Yu says, unflinchingly, because it is.

With the lack of immediate attention, the cat turns to walk away down the floodplain, leaving them staring at each other over an empty space until Yu feels heat crawl up his face and he breaks, looking at where the cat disappears beyond a hill in the distance.

He’s disappointed, distantly, but not surprised when Adachi changes the subject. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

“Of course I am.” He doesn’t have much frame of reference, but he’s never seen Adachi fret this much over a mission. “Are you?”

Adachi scoffs, but his voice is a little too high, a little too light, when he says, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Yu just leans his head back and lets the breeze sift through his hair, the late evening waning sun casting a shadowing glow across their bodies. It’s so calm out here, just the two of them.

“No reason.”

Kanji’s Shadow is a mess, but it always is.

More than anything, for Yu, it’s a relatable mess. While Yu never spent much time in the closet himself—it was, at best, transparent—he understands, intimately, the struggles of reconciling sexuality and masculinity; of trying desperately to deny the inconvenient truths that may lead to further otherness and ostracization; of wrestling with the part that wants to embrace that taboo fully, and the part that desperately wants to be accepted, before understanding that they’re one and the same. For someone like Kanji, who has felt for his entire life that he needs to compensate for the nature of his talents and interests with hypermasculinity and self-denial, he can only imagine that pull is... well, as strong as what he sees in front of him.

The discomfort both Adachi and Yosuke display grow throughout the span of the fight. As Yosuke squirms out of his skin as Kanji argues with his Shadow self about the nature of who he ‘really’ is, Adachi goes stone-faced and blank, statuesque even when Kanji begins to yell his denial loud enough to shake the rafters of the bathhouse. Adachi’s clenched fists twitch and flex at his sides while Yosuke digs his nails into the flesh of his hands. Yu, for his part, just watches them, sneaking glances at his party when the Shadow is occupied elsewhere.

It falls easily enough, but the hardest part, especially with this Shadow, always comes after. Unlike most, Kanji’s Shadow is on its feet and still swinging after its final form has been defeated, the body double left standing glowering in a towel as Kanji continues to deny it, even after everything.

“You have to accept it,” Yu says, gently. He screwed this up the first time, they all did, because they were young and naive, and even having gone through something similar himself, Yu didn’t really recognize what the signs actually meant—not in the way he’s come to understand it since. He’s made it a mission to do it right in the times he’s bothered with this part since, but now, it matters more than ever. “Otherwise, it’ll attack again.”

“It’s not about guys or chicks,” Kanji sighs, and unlike the first time, Yu gets what he means. He steps forward, away from the rest of the party and closer to Kanji’s side where he can see his eyes, and he can read the contents like a book. It’s not about sexuality—his sexuality is as clear as Yu’s is—it’s about how the rest of him is perceived in conjunction with it. “It’s because I don’t wanna get rejected.”

“We won’t reject you,” Yu promises, because at the very least, that’s a promise he can keep. “None of us are here to judge who or what you love, we just care about you.”

“Yeah, dude,” Chie adds, as probably the next best adjusted one of the bunch. “And we think you’re pretty cool.”

Yu offers out his hand towards the Shadow, who is still staring at them with a broken look, eyes small and scared despite the harsh fall of its brow. “You can accept it. It’s okay.”

Kanji crawls up onto one knee, glaring up at the Shadow for strong, silent seconds before his face finally crumples and he exhales, shaking his head. “I guess you really are me then, huh?”

It’s only then that Kanji gets his Persona, after a much more straightforward and much less violent Shadow negotiation than in the first loop. By now, this is old hat, but it’s still charming to see him accept it outright rather than what felt like on a technicality. On reflex, he casts his eyes to the rest of the party to search for their reactions. Yukiko’s soft smile and Chie’s encouraging grin are as unchanging as ever, and as usual, Yosuke looks even more out of sorts with the proceedings, arms across his chest and eyes darting every which way around the bathhouse, itching like he’s desperate to get out.

It’s Adachi that takes his focus, though, because in the time he was talking with Kanji, something about his eyes have gone funny and dark, glassy like marbles, and even when he meets his gaze, nothing behind them seems to register it. It chills him immediately, and Yu draws back, dropping down to help Kanji to his feet even as he feels the pressure of those cold eyes.

“Well then,” Adachi calls, twirling his gun around his finger as Yu pulls Kanji up on his shoulders, the boy slouching onto him in exhaustion. Yosuke, usually the first to help in moments like these, conspicuously keeps his hands to himself. “I’m exhausted. Who’s going to call into the station and lie through their teeth this time? Because it can’t keep being me.”

Suddenly, the air feels a bit strange and stifling, and it’s from more than just the heat and the fog of the sauna.

“I’ll go to the station myself,” Kanji says from somewhere around Yu’s chest, wriggling up to something closer to his full height. “I can make it there. I’ll tell them I have no idea where I’ve been. It’s the truth.”

Well, that answers some questions about what he remembers. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yukiko frown in sympathy, but that’s all he gets to see before Adachi’s marching back out of the room and heading towards the door, and it’s Yu that has to shuffle with Kanji in tow to keep up as the leader.

He can’t get a good look at his eyes from behind him, but maybe, he realizes with a chill, that’s the point.

Later that night, Dojima comes home for dinner, and so does Adachi.

Dojima is in exceptionally high spirits, both from a clear post-work drink or two and the miraculous reappearance of their latest missing persons case, and when he bangs down the door after Yu’s gotten home, he’s already several decibels louder than normal. He’s brought sushi from Junes and an exhausted-looking Tohru Adachi in tow, and Yu just puts the food he made in the fridge for another day, almost as excited for the opportunity to share a meal between all four of them for once as Nanako is. She’s bouncing out of her seat from the moment her father walks in the door, and with a load off of his plate, he’s much quicker to humor her, letting her take a seat beside him at the kotatsu and tell him about her day as he instructs Yu and Adachi to set the table.

Normally, he’d be irritated by Dojima not doing it himself, but Nanako looks so happy, he can’t possibly blame him for it. Besides, it gives him a moment alone with Adachi in the kitchen. He still looks haggard as he reaches for the plates and chopsticks like it’s second nature, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?” Yu asks under his breath as he opens up the sushi container. “It’s been a long day.”

“I’m fine,” Adachi dismisses, his voice flat and hollow. It was harder to make sense of through the ambient noise inside the TV, but out here in the real world, there’s something off-putting about the stilted cadence. “Just tired.”

“I understand,” Yu nods. Adachi turns and walks away, barely bothering to catch Yu’s eyes before they slide past him again. He follows in step and takes a seat down next to him, rearranging the usual seats so Dojima and Nanako can sit next to each other.

He expects Adachi to reach for the one and only urchin as he always does, but instead, he stares at the sushi blankly for so long that Dojima manages to beat him to it, even distracted by Nanako’s ongoing chatter. He doesn’t even look that disgruntled with it, reaching for tuna without a show of emotion across his face. He doesn’t seem to register Yu eyeing him as he reaches for his own bite of fish, watching Dojima and Nanako impassively.

“I can’t believe we solved it,” Dojima says, cracking open a beer and chugging down what must be more than half of it in one go. “I never thought that kid would show back up.”

“We didn’t exactly solve it, sir,” Adachi reminds him, ungraceful and muffled around his bite of sushi. He puts a hand to his mouth so nothing escapes, chewing quickly. “We have no idea—”

“He’s home now,” Dojima cuts him off with a sharp glance and a wave of his finger around his can, taking another drink. “That’s what matters! Can you believe it, Yu?” He bends in and lowers his voice to a conspiratorial stage-whisper. “I still want to consider this case to be related to the other kidnappings though, you know. It’s too similar.” He straightens, and throws the hand holding his beer up into the air. “But for now! It’s all okay.”

Yu tries to catch Adachi’s eye so someone else will see how he bites down a knee-jerk twitch of his lips at that, but he’s too immersed in picking out his next piece of sushi. He settles on a salmon. “No, I can’t believe it.”

“What a relief,” Adachi sighs at the piece of fish on his chopsticks, elbows on the table before taking another bite, rolling his eyes up to the ceiling before closing them briefly as he chews. He takes a long drink of his own beer, almost untouched until now. “I was worried I was going to be pulling all-nighters at the station for weeks.”

Dojima scoffs. “Says the rookie who gets to go home early every night.”

Adachi’s face sharpens, jaw tightening like he has an argument for that, a real one, but after a blink, his face softens again and he takes another sip instead, wiping at his mouth with an exaggerated ‘ah’. “Well, youth is beauty, so I need my sleep.”

Dojima laughs heartily, and quips, “You better get to resting up, then.”

He means it as a joke, of course he does, and Adachi laughs along with it like it’s nothing, but there’s a crease in the corner of his eyes, a tightness to how he suddenly straightens up to back from the table a bit, and something must overtake him, something foreign and alien pushing him forward, because before Yu knows what he’s doing, his hand is on Adachi’s knee under the kotatsu, warm and firm underneath his work pants.

For a moment, a brief, blissful moment, he swears he sees Adachi’s body go slack at the contact, just a flash of reprieve as he melts into the touch, and Yu can feel him breathe, alive and connected by that vital point of fleeting contact. But just as quickly as Yu could convince himself it was there at all, it vanishes, and Adachi’s entire person freezes straight and taut like a livewire, tension seeping out from his flesh and into Yu’s hand. Adachi’s jaw is locked and his eyes, after avoiding them all night, have finally found their way to him, and they’re wrong. They’re wrong. They’re black and grey at the center, unreflective, and Yu’s blood runs cold as he slowly pulls his hand back into his own lap, palm smarting as if he’d been burned. Adachi blinks at him without a single shred of warmth or recognition across his features.

He doesn’t stay too long after dinner that night, giving an excuse of being too exhausted to stand, and for once, Yu can’t help but find it’s maybe for the best they part earlier tonight.

Something goes wrong with him, when the exhaustion grows too long. He’s always known that.

It’s just different to be reminded of it.

He doesn’t hear from him for a few days. According to Dojima, he cashes in two sick days after Kanji is found, and as long as nothing amiss shows up on the news, Yu’s happy to give him the space to rest. He feels like he needs it as well, maybe now more than ever.

Perhaps that’s why, a few days later, he finds himself at the shrine on the first day of sunshine after the fog, early in the afternoon on a weekday when he’s certain no one else will be around. It’s been a while since he paid a visit to the fox, but for some reason, he’s drawn to see it today, enticed by the idea of being around something silent and understanding. Yu can’t prove it, but he wonders sometimes if it’s made of the same magic as Marie or Igor, separated from this tangible plane of reality and unencumbered by its rules. There’s something about the way it sits with him, wise, like it’s seen him in every reality he’s ever walked, and for some reason, adrift in the space between when their target has been rescued and when operations can recommence, he feels he needs that energy now more than ever.

Sure enough, he’s alone when he arrives at the shrine, and the fox appears on command, running around his legs excitedly and giving a little yip at his arrival. Yu reaches down to scratch its head, but after a few circles, the fox runs towards the side of the shrine, prancing around a tree with another yip as it waits for Yu to notice something around the corner of the building. He peers around, and sure enough, there’s someone else there he didn’t notice at first, which given the bleached blonde hair on the boy kneeling there on the grass, comes as a surprise.

“That’s okay,” he whispers to the fox, catching up with it at its tree to give it another pet as he leans down. “He’s a friend.”

At full height and volume again, Yu greets, softly, “Kanji.”

The boy in question turns with a stir, looking up at Yu with wide, alarmed eyes before he gets proper sight of him and his face relaxes, greeting him with a little nod. “Oh, hey.”

“Do you mind if we join you?” Yu asks, gesturing to the space Kanji has set up near the back of the shrine, where there’s a small fountain hidden away from prying eyes for prayer and contemplation. He’s always been a bit more spiritual than the rest, on account of his mother, but Yu doesn’t think he’s ever seen him here like this, clearly lost in his thoughts and seeking out its respite. He wonders if he’s been here the whole time, every loop, and he’s just never noticed.

Kanji’s eyes follow down to where the fox is making small figure-8s in between Yu’s legs, and gives a little silent laugh, even though his expression is uncharacteristically somber, still. “Yeah, sure.”

Yu kneels down next to him in the grass and the fox follows, settling in between their knees in an approximation of its own matching position. Kanji eyes it out of the corner of his gaze, but says nothing, and though it’s hard to tell from his profile, Yu thinks he’s fighting a smile. Either way, he closes his eyes and lowers his head for a moment, and Yu lets him take the silence—he’s not much one for prayer himself, but he enjoys the atmosphere of reflection between them, comfortable despite Kanji’s residual awkwardness from the Shadow radiating off of him in little waves. It hangs in the air between them, but with Kanji’s closed eyes, it’s not too heavy, and what feels like several minutes pass in quiet, with nothing but the soft sounds of the fox as Yu pets it and the drip of the fountain. When Kanji finally opens them again, he blinks, like he’s forgotten he’s not alone, and leans back on his heels.

“Sorry,” Kanji says, putting a hand to the back of his head. “I was praying to my dad.”

“It’s alright,” Yu replies, scratching at the fox’s ears. It preens into the touch, its tail swishing and brushing across Yu’s legs. “I was the one who interrupted you.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Kanji shrugs, crossing his legs and leaning over them into a more comfortable position as he stares at the fountain, and Yu follows him, the fox moving to settle in his lap. “I do this a lot. Whenever something big happens I like to… I dunno, update him.”

“Yeah?” Yu prompts, meeting Kanji’s questioning raise of his eyes with a nod as the other boy reaches over to scratch at the fox’s fur, a small smile immediately breaking across his face.

“Soft,” he says absently, petting behind its ears as the fox keens into him from where he’s still perched on Yu, a pleased look on its face. Kanji’s lost in the sensation for a moment before he seems to remember Yu addressing him and he looks back up, sheepish. “I… I maybe got the wrong idea about what being a man is, from him. I used to think there was only one way to be, and I thought I had to act like that if I wanted to make him proud.”

The fox rearranges itself on Yu’s legs so its head is leaning towards Kanji as it rests on Yu’s knees to allow him better purchase to pet it. “Do you still feel that way?”

Kanji holds his hand out to let the fox lick it, once, before he returns to petting its side. “I dunno. I think maybe I was the one who misinterpreted it.”

Yu nods, because he understands what that means to Kanji. “I’m glad you’re up and feeling better.”

“Yeah,” Kanji stares up at the clouds in the sky, just barely obscuring the sun. “Today’s the first day I feel human again. Did all of you really go through that too?”

For once, he can be completely honest in saying, “We all did.”

“Damn,” Kanji swears, wiping at his nose with the back of his hand. Up close, there’s a little rim of red around his eyes, and he must notice Yu blink at him, because he turns away and he sees him dab at something on his cheek. “This facing yourself shit sucks.”

Yu laughs at that, quietly. “Tell me about it.”

“It’s so lame, pretending to be something I’m not just to avoid being rejected for who I am,” Kanji mutters, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, staring at the water as it falls rhythmically. “That’s cowardly. I don’t want to act like that anymore.”

“Everyone does that to an extent,” Yu muses, entranced by the fountain and how his strokes of the fox’s fur move in time with the sound. The fox settles as it peers out curiously across the shrine. “But there’s nothing wrong with who you are.”

“Thanks.” Kanji pulls his sleeve over his hand to wipe at his face again, giving an annoyed little grunt at the moisture across it. He’s only crying just slightly, but it’s enough for Yu to feel the sympathy pains of it, even though his own tears are much more reluctant to fall than Kanji’s by any stretch of the imagination. “For not thinking I’m like, a freak, I guess.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Yu hedges, adjusting the fall of his bangs with a small shrug. “Besides, we’re all kind of in the same boat.”

“I want to learn how to be okay with who I am,” Kanji says around his knees, and despite his scrunched-up posture, there’s a conviction in his voice. “Since it’s not going to change any time soon. You guys don’t have to be my friend or anything just because you rescued me, but thanks for giving me the chance to try and do that.”

Yu shakes his head. “You are our friend. You’ve been my friend. You’re stuck with us, now.”

“For real?” Kanji asks, letting his legs drop open again as he turns towards Yu, a strange but hopeful expression on his face. Yu breaks into a smile, and Kanji grins, throwing back his head as he laughs. “Thanks, man.”

If only everyone else were so easy to crack.

He doesn’t see Adachi again until the end of the week after Kanji recovers, so he spends the rest of the time with everyone else. He eats rooftop lunches with Chie and walks Yukiko to work, skips class once to hang out with Ai, and most importantly, finally gets time to spend with Yosuke after the whirlwind of the past few weeks. He’s off from Junes after school that Thursday, so he takes him for steak skewers on his own dime, making a little home at the dinghy patio tables outside the stand.

“My head’s been way too full this week,” Yosuke sighs around a piece of steak, slumping forward onto his elbows across the table. “My thoughts are all sticky.”

Yu takes his own delicate bite of steak and ventures, “Anything you want to talk about?”

Yosuke just looks at him, and groans, slumping down even further in his chair and burying his face behind another piece of meat, speaking around it as he chews. “Not a chance.”

Yu just blinks his eyes at him imploringly, once, twice, and that’s all it takes for Yosuke to break. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“I’m all ears,” Yu says, because he may not be good for everything, but he knows he’s good for that. Listening.

“So, I’m totally into Saki, right?” Yosuke prefaces, setting his hands out on the table to illustrate his point. “But I just can’t manage to ask her out! It’s like every time I have the chance, I either freeze up, or I don’t have the time that day anyway.”

Yu nods. “Freeze up how?”

“I dunno.” Yosuke throws his hands up over his head before folding them onto the table to rest his forehead against, sighing. “It’s like, I know exactly what I want to say—‘Hey, Saki, wanna go grab a bite to eat after work?’—but every time I walk up to her, I clam up and start talking about the weather or something and I’ve blown my chance again. It sucks.”

“You’re hardly ever at a loss for words,” Yu remarks, cocking his head a little to the side as he studies the flush drawn across Yosuke’s face as he taps his fingers against the table in a nervous, rhythmic pattern. “I wonder why.”

“Dude,” Yosuke deadpans after laughing high and breathy, staring at Yu from across the table with arched brows. “Have you seen her?”

Yu presses his lips together. “Not quite my type.”

“Well, less competition for me,” Yosuke declares, tossing his empty steak skewer stick over his shoulder and into the trash can behind him. “But anyway, I’d rather not get into it more. I just wanted to vent.”

Yu appreciates his honesty, and it gives him a free pass to not talk about the things on his mind, as well. “Sure thing.”

Instead, Yosuke pivots the conversation to the investigation. There’s a lot of unanswered questions for Yosuke to muse over, and Yu is always entertained by the patterns of what he’s gathered thus far and where his head is at, which, surprisingly, isn’t all that different from what he’s gathered in the other timelines.

It’s obvious there’s still something on Yosuke’s mind, but that’s to be expected. Something about Kanji’s dungeon—and he thinks he knows what—seems to disturb his thoughts, but he’s doing a good job of acting unbothered after his initial outburst, even though it’s clear from the weight in his eyes that it still rests heavy. It’ll either come to the surface, as it does in certain loops, or it won’t, but there will be time for Yu to dig into it.

“We should have dinner with everyone tomorrow,” Yosuke suggests after a beat of silence in the conversation. “To welcome Kanji to the team officially!”

“That’s brilliant,” Yu agrees. “I’ll let everyone know.”

When he texts Adachi under the table, he half-expects him to either reject the invitation, or not reply at all after a week of mostly radio silence; but he responds a little after he and Yosuke wrap up for the night, with the stipulation he’ll be there, only a little late. Yu still has trouble counting on it, but everyone else will be there at the very least, so after school concludes the next day, he makes his way down to Aiya with the rest of the Investigation Team in tow, their chatter and laughter filling the air. They squeeze into one of Aiya’s too-small booths, with Kanji and the girls on one side and Yosuke and Yu on the other, with a space optimistically left.

Sure enough, they have their food ordered by the time the door rings for another arrival, but frankly, it’s even earlier than Yu anticipated to see Adachi saunter through the door. He looks around the small restaurant, like he’s somehow incapable of finding the group of rather loud teenagers right smack in the middle of it, before he lazily shifts his eyes over to their table and gives a little wave, crossing over to the booth.

“Uh, is there really room?” he asks as he approaches, the rest of the table looking up to greet him. He has his outer suit jacket slung over one arm, and his face is a little bit red, like he got here in a hurry. He eyes the booth warily, and the small sliver of space in between Yu and the edge.

“Sure there is.” Yu gestures to the space, scooting over towards Yosuke. “I got you soba, I hope you don’t mind.”

Adachi’s face softens like that genuinely surprises him, mouth parting just slightly. “Yeah, sure, that’s fine.”

Yu peers at his eyes with a tightness in his chest, but when they meet for just a brief second, they’re clear and consistent, shining in the light and moving in time with his face and emotion, narrowing when Yu stares for too long. He breaks it with a small, hidden exhale, and Adachi just rolls his eyes and lowers down into the seat as if it might burn him, sinking into the leather.

There’s no way to sit without their thighs touching—he’s flush against Yosuke on the other side, that’s just the nature of the seating at this establishment—but when Adachi does it, it’s an entirely different sensation, catching his skin like a flame and lighting it all the way down his leg as he settles in, the warmth of his body immediately melding with Yu’s. He wonders if Adachi will readjust, find a way to sit on the very ledge so they don’t have to touch, but after some minor twitching, he settles in next to him, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, and Yu has to focus on breathing normally.

“Now that everyone’s here...” Yosuke taps the side of his chopsticks against his water glass to get the attention of the table, Yukiko and Chie pausing their side conversation. “Let us officially welcome our newest member, Kanji!”

Yuikiko gives a polite clap that Chie joins in with even more enthusiasm, so Yu puts his hands together as well, elbowing Adachi at his side until he does the same. He glances at him out of the corner of his eye, annoyed, but does his part until Kanji turns red and shushes them, running a hand back through his blonde hair.

“You guys already went through this,” Kanji mutters, sinking further into the back corner of the booth where he’s sitting by the girls. “Is once at school not enough?”

Yukiko gestures to Adachi, who is halfway through ungracefully chugging his water glass all in one go. “Well, not everyone was here.”

Kanji sizes Adachi up and down with a few long, careful scans of his eyes, pausing over his uniform and cropped back hair with an increasingly deep frown. “No one told me there would be a cop here.”

“Be nice, Kanji,” Yukiko pleads, sending him a long look. “He’s one of us.”

Adachi shrugs, attempting to shift the cross of his legs but only succeeding in pressing up further into Yu’s space, his knee fully falling across Yu’s lap in its journey to cross over his other leg. The touch lingers. Adachi holds his hands up in surrender, his focus on Kanji. “Hey, hey, I don’t blame you for not trusting like that. I wouldn’t want the cops here if I were you, either.”

Kanji straightens up a little, but doesn’t look any less cautious as he continues to take stock of Adachi’s wiry frame pressed in the booth. “Then why are you here?”

“Relax,” Adachi drawls, and when he leans back their arms brush from the shoulder down to the elbow. “I’m off-duty when I’m here, you have my word on that.”

With a snort, Kanji nods, still not completely satisfied but looking as if he has no further objections. From there, the conversation divulges into splinters as they wait for their food, leaving Yu with little distraction from the weight at his side.

“Good to see you,” Yu says under his breath, just loud enough for Adachi to hear.

When he turns to him just a few inches, Yu feels every single centimeter of skin in contact with his own, every layer between it, and he shivers. “You see me all the time.”

“It’s still good to see you,” Yu repeats, unhindered by how Adachi’s looking at him like he’s sprouted two heads. He shifts back, but it doesn’t create any space between them, and Yu feels overheated in the small booth, warm from the inside out.

Even when Adachi gets up to bring everyone their food as it’s prepared shortly after, the heat doesn’t leave him, tingling in his wake and lighting up again when he returns, settling in for the final time to break open his chopsticks and start on his noodles. He feels every shift of Adachi’s body just as much as he’s certain he can feel his own, and it takes his attention away from the conversation a bit, returning in full force only when he feels Adachi clear his throat at his side.

“Thanks,” he says into his noodles, before the eyes of the rest of the team float to him, and he realizes he’s been heard. He swallows down a bite, and repeats, louder, “Thanks. For inviting me.”

“Of course,” Yosuke says, as if this is self-evident. He tips his water glass to him in a little nod. “You’re one of us, dude.”

Adachi just shrugs, “Yeah, well. Still.”

His eyes are clear, and so is his voice, and the relief, even if it’s temporary, steadies him almost more than the feel of his body.

“Always,” Yu says, and he means it.

He means it.

Chapter Text

June brings the swelling heat of summer’s earliest sway, a burst of sound and color that blankets the valley of Inaba, and Yu finds himself hot under the collar of his thin, white t-shirt even in the slight brisk of early evening. Humidity sticks to his skin as his uncle stares him down in the middle of their quiet residential street; Yu swallows past the lump that glare always puts in his throat as bugs chirp in the background.

“Please?” Yu asks again, for lack of a better argument. He’s exhausted most of them.

There’s another pair of eyes at his side flickering slowly between the two of them, and he feels Adachi shift before he hears him, the edge of his jacket fluttering against Yu’s hip as he readjusts the fold of his arms.

“Come on, boss.” Adachi kicks at the ground, staring up at Dojima with a calculatedly sheepish look on his face. “He’s old enough for a little bit of independence, yeah? He’s responsible. It’s just a license.”

Dojima stands as if he’s guarding the gates to a palace, arms crossed and a frown etched deep in his brows as he looks the two of them over, like they’re some sort of united front conspiring against him. It’s been a while—really since the first loop—that he’s bothered to take up Yosuke’s insistence on getting their licenses, and he doesn’t remember if it felt so much like a fight the first time, without Adachi there. It’s startling now how normal it feels to have him in his corner.

He didn’t even know Adachi would be over tonight. He just told Yosuke he’d ask his uncle and had planned to argue out his case, since it happened to be the day Yosuke first brought up his desire to get a motorcycle, and he figured he might as well ask sooner rather than later. Perhaps it’s another insignificant aberration that the both of them are sitting eating dinner with Nanako when he arrives home, after visiting Yumi and her father at the hospital—or perhaps it’s not, but either way, arguing for his perspective in front of the both of them has lead them here: Adachi on his side and Dojima’s resolve waning by the second.

“I know the risks,” Yu promises his uncle, watching as Dojima eyes him warily. “I’ll be as careful as possible, promise.”

“Well…” Dojima’s words fade out before he gives a long, haggard sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright. I guess I can’t stop you.”

“That’s the spirit, Dojima!” Adachi crosses over to give him a clap on the shoulder, and Dojima shrugs off the touch with a sidelong glance. Adachi makes a good show of looking undeterred. “It’s about time you let him become a man.”

Something lurches in his chest, but Yu swallows it down. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Dojima tugs him aside. “You know that I’ll still have to tell your mother about this though,” he reminds him.

Yu winces, then smooths his expression back over when he feels Adachi’s eyes dissecting him, but it’s enough to make Dojima smile wryly and shove a hand into his pocket. “Trust me, Yu,” he says, “it’s better for her to know now. When my dad caught me riding a scooter… Well, he gave me a good thrashing. Heh.”

It’s not something Yu’s had to think about in a long time.

He gets a text from Dojima the following day to come by Moel after school. When he arrives, Dojima is standing proud with his hands on his hips, and with the rev of an engine to the left, Adachi comes peeling out from behind one of the gas pumps, helmet straps loose and flapping before squealing to a stop in front of Yu.

“Be careful with that thing,” Dojima snaps, and smacks him upside the head once Adachi’s taken the helmet off. His hair is plastered sleek to his head, a few strays sticking up in odd directions.

“Sorry boss,” Adachi says as he slings the helmet over the handles, not sounding sorry at all. He drops the kickstand and gets off, stepping aside to let Yu get a decent look at it. “Check it out, Yu. Pretty sweet ride, huh?”

“Your scooter?” Yu asks Dojima, glancing back over at him.

“You should have it,” Dojima says, and he looks sincere, words kind. “I mean, it’s not getting used, since I have the car and all. I wanted you to have something you could call yours.”

It’s not a point he’s reached in any other loop, and it warms him, a smile spreading involuntarily across his lips. Dojima’s gaze is soft, and Yu can feel a sense of expectation, but a little bit of pride, too.

“I’ll take good care of it,” Yu promises.

Adachi steps back next to Yu to admire it as well and hands Yu the helmet, the scooter’s white, slightly chipped paint gleaming in the glow of the streetlight and the last faltering rays of afternoon sun. It’s not much, but looking at it now, Yu realizes how badly he’s missed it—not just the freedom it represents, but how it feels like his. Seeing it again is like coming home to another old friend.

Dojima scratches at the stubble on his cheek. “So, we filled up the tank for you, but you might want to give it one last look-over before you go anywhere outside of Inaba, okay?”

Yu nods, noting some of the loosely-set screws.

“Now all you gotta do is fix it up,” Adachi winks up at Yu, elbowing him gently in his ribs. Yu leans into the motion, knocking against his bony arm.

Reluctantly, Dojima steps away from the scooter and slings his jacket over his shoulder, rubbing his forehead. “You’re not off the hook for enabling this.”

“But you agreed,” Adachi scoffs, staring at Dojima’s retreating frame dumbfounded as he heads back towards the house. His eyes shine as he looks to Yu, but he’s too distracted to offer anything more than a shrug.

Underneath the streetlight, half in the shadow of the old gas station, all he sees is possibility.

“So I’ll check it tonight,” he promises Yosuke and Kanji the next day. They’re eating lunch up on the rooftop, most days lately being nice enough to enjoy the sunshine and soft breeze on their breaks. “It shouldn’t be much.”

Kanji sucks on his juice box, nodding. “Sweet.”

“Man, I can’t believe you got your uncle to agree,” Yosuke says with a relieved sigh, grinning and throwing an arm around Yu’s shoulders, giving an ever-so-brief squeeze before dropping it. “We’re gonna pick up so many chicks!”

Yu and Kanji meet each other’s eyes over Yosuke’s head for a meaningful second before Kanji coughs and drawls, “Sure.”

Regardless of what Yosuke thinks they’ll be using their newfound freedom for, Yu has a full day ahead of him before he can enjoy it. Afternoon classes fade away into soccer practice, which fades inevitably into Yu dragging Kou and Daisuke with him to take Ai out shopping, and the farce that entails.

Yu watches from the dressing room bench next to Daisuke as Ai desperately searches for an oblivious Kou’s validation on outfit after outfit, while the poor boy is unable to summon anything other than an enthusiastic, but bland, approval no matter how questionable the ensemble. Yu and Daisuke make silent, increasingly frequent eye contact as Kou’s clear low-simmering anxiety begins to mount, and eventually Yu takes over, helping Ai narrow down her options to a reasonable ten choices lest they further interrupt the employees trying to close. Kou might be oblivious to her affections, and Ai is oblivious in her own way—to how close Daisuke and Kou were sitting, and the way his attention can’t help but drift—but Yu’s not going to be the one to break it to either of them.

As genuinely fun as they are to be around, he’s tired already by the time he arrives back home to find Adachi’s car in the driveway. He expects to see Dojima inside, even though his car is nowhere to be found, but sure enough, it’s just Adachi inside, sitting with Nanako and shuffling a deck of playing cards while she does her homework.

“Oh, hey,” Yu greets, peeling his shoes off and shutting the door behind him. He’ll have to adjust his dinner plans a little, but that’s nothing new. He can make something fast, maybe some fried rice. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Welcome home to you, too.” Adachi rolls his eyes, giving the deck another pointed shuffle. Nanako turns around from where she’s sitting and excitedly waves, a motion Yu returns as he smiles softly before looking back to Adachi. “Your uncle told me I had to help you fix up the scooter since I, quote, took your side.”

Yu gives him a sympathetic frown. “Didn’t know insubordination counted off the clock.”

“Me neither,” Adachi snorts, leaning back on his hand and sipping at the beer he’s already helped himself to. “I don’t know what he thinks I can help with, anyway.”

Yu ducks into the kitchen and starts pulling out ingredients, grateful he has extra vegetables prepped from the other night that he can throw together. “You can provide moral support.”

Adachi laughs at that from the other room, humorlessly, before going silent. The sound of the weather report fills the room before he eventually clears his throat and says, “Do you need help with anything?”

Yu fires up the stove and pulls out a large pan, shaking his head. “You can help Nanako with her homework.”

“He has been,” Nanako insists, holding up her papers with a triumphant gleam. “I’m almost done.”

“Good for you,” Yu smiles. He lets the rest of his short dinner preparation turn into a low drone of the TV and their voices, with Adachi prompting and teasing her gently as she orates the last section of her book report. It feels warm, like home, like he was always told home should feel, and it carries him all the way through cooking.

Yu is mostly quiet over dinner, more inclined to watch Nanako fruitlessly argue with Adachi over his intentionally ungenerous misreading of her handwriting. As tired as he was, he feels more than ready to tackle the scooter by the time they finish. They leave Nanako to do her homework—after plenty of reassurance she won’t miss anything exciting and can come out whenever she has a break—and Yu and Adachi face their work under streetlights and flashlights.

“We should have done this earlier,” Adachi grumbles, sipping at his freshly-opened post-dinner beer. It’s actually quite bright right underneath the lamppost, with more than enough light for Yu to see, especially combined with the flashlight he had Adachi fish out of the hall closet. “I can’t see shit.”

“I thought you weren’t doing shit?” Yu asks, rifling through the toolbox he’d pulled out of the shed on his way out to the scooter. “I’m alright with just this.”

Adachi flops down on the grass by the sidewalk, throwing back another drink. “Whatever you say. I don’t want to sit here useless.”

Yu takes a seat on the concrete by the bike and he examines the sides of it, searching for imperfections. There are a few loose bolts and it’ll probably need an oil change, but that’s nothing Yu can’t accomplish. “You won’t be useless,” he assures, scooting up on his knees to mess with the handlebars. He rolls up his sleeves and unclasps the collar of his button-down to ward off the night heat. “Can you hand me the screwdriver?”

“Huh?” Adachi asks, then blinks away from where he was staring somewhere across Yu’s chest. “Oh, yeah.”

He grabs for the toolbox, sifting through until he finds the screwdriver and holds it out for Yu. Their fingers brush just slightly as Yu grabs it, and it feels like static electricity. Yu shakes it off and reaches around until he finds the loose bolt on the top of the handlebars, tightening it with a twist and doing the same to the next few he finds. Adachi takes another sip, watching him.

By the time he finishes with the bolts, Nanako has unsurprisingly found her way out, too curious about what her big bro is doing to focus. She tip-toes her way through the yard like he and Adachi both don’t turn at the sound of the sliding glass door.

“What are you doing?” she asks, rocking back and forth on her heels with her hands behind her as she approaches, appraising at the scooter. She stops in the grass by Adachi, just at the edge of the streetlight. “Is Dad letting you fix that up?”

Yu pushes against the seat to test its sturdiness, pulling back triumphantly when it doesn’t buckle at all under his weight. “He is. Wanna help?”

“So you’ll make the kid work, but not me.” Adachi rolls his eyes, good-natured—or so Yu assumes—and pulls his knees up to lean on them as he drinks, the bottle almost gone now. “I see how it is.”

Nanako flutters around Yu as he scoots back to look at his work, ignoring Adachi’s quip, but she has a small frown on her face. “I still have homework.”

“That’s okay,” Yu replies, reaching up to ruffle her hair. She doesn’t even shake in protest; instead, she almost leans into it, the touch familiar, now. “Homework is important. Do you want to put this back and hand me a wrench?”

Dutifully, she holds her hands outstretched before Yu can even turn to put the screwdriver in them, spinning on her heel to return to the toolbox and look through each piece carefully. She passes the wrench twice before she finally seems to muster up the confidence to know what it is, holding it back out for him. “This one?”

“Perfect,” Yu replies, twirling the tool in his hand. “If you finish your work, you can see me take it on a test ride.”

Nanako’s eyes go wide and sparkle underneath the streetlight as her lips part softly. “Really?”

Yu nods, and that’s all it takes for her to run back inside, barely remembering to shut the garden gate behind her as she goes. Yu watches her until she disappears behind the sliding glass doors of the living room again, past the garden where small buds are just starting to grow out from the soil. He turns back to the wrench, walking on his knees over to where he knows the oil drain plug is. He places the small tin catchpan beneath it and twists, thick grease smearing across his fingers as old, coagulated globules of oil fall like jam. He rubs his nose with the back of his hand to dislodge the musky stench of it.

“There’s a change of oil in the shed,” Yu informs Adachi without looking over his shoulder, bending to wipe the screw and barrel clean. “Do you mind grabbing me that?”

It’s silent for several seconds, and at first Yu wonders if Adachi heard him at all until he feels the power of his gaze across his back, and he knows he had to. A shiver runs down his spine, but when he looks back, Adachi’s eyes are clear, shining under the light, and completely focused on Yu, studying him like a slide under the microscope. The second he meets his gaze, he feels pinned, put on display, but not entirely in a way he hates. There’s a relief in how it feels like Adachi—lazy yet searching—but Yu has not the faintest idea what he’s searching for, and whether or not he finds it in the curious raise of his brows.

The motion across Yu’s face seems to stir him, and he shakes out his head and shoulders, setting down his now-empty beer bottle on the concrete. He looks off somewhere else entirely as he crawls to his feet, giving an exaggerated stretch. “Yeah, sure.”

Yu sits back on his heels as he watches Adachi’s retreating form head towards the garden shed, but Adachi catches him looking within seconds, sending a glance over his shoulder before turning to reach into the shed, disappearing for a brief moment before he reappears with a small oil can.

“This it?” he calls from across the yard, and Yu gives an affirmative gesture. Adachi slows at the edge of the garden on his way back, casting his eyes over the small patches of green beginning to sprout out from the dirt. “Oh. Huh. They’re actually growing.”

“Of course,” Yu says, before finally remembering to replace the drain screw and move back to the engine, still splitting his focus between the scooter and Adachi behind him, curious about the foreign look on his face. “We’ve been watering them.”

Adachi seems perplexed by that, reaching down to rub at one of the leaves sprouting up with his free hand. “Weird.”

He makes the rest of the way towards Yu without further comment, but instead of sitting back down where he was on the grass after handing Yu the can, he hesitates before lowering onto the sidewalk beside Yu, scrutinizing the engine and unscrewed oil dipstick.

“You know how to do this?” Adachi asks, eyeing the cap as if it were an untrustworthy foreign object. “Because I sure don’t.”

The oil well is completely dry, so Yu just tips the canister in and fills it up, then replaces the dipstick. “See?” He turns the key in the ignition and feels the engine putter and purr beneath his hand to let the oil cycle. “Easy.”

Instead of the scoff he expects, he’s greeted with silence, and when he turns to Adachi to analyze it after cutting the engine, he’s just staring at him with a strange, deep look. Not even Yu’s attention seems to faze him, and Yu regards him silently as the seconds tick by until he finally has to break it himself. “What?”

“You have something on your face.” Adachi says, cocking his head to the side like he’s not quite done studying him.

Yu nearly puts a hand to his cheek before he remembers the grease on his fingers. “I do?”

Adachi just shakes his head, sighs, and leans forward. “Hold still.”

Yu doesn’t think he could move a muscle even if he dared as Adachi crawls over to him and puts a thumb to the top of his cheekbone, right underneath his eye, and gives one gentle, firm wipe; when he pulls back his hand, Yu sees a small slick of oil on the pad. All Yu can think about is the tingling sensation left across his skin and the too-little space between them, struggling to breathe as Adachi peers at the side of his face long and careful in the beam of the forgotten flashlight.

“There.”

The road to Okina isn’t far, but it’s winding, and Yu feels the wind in his hair with all the adrenaline of the first time, sun beating down as asphalt rolls out in front of them. His heart races with the thrill of being behind the wheel of something again, and the part of him that is bitterly reminded he’d have a real license by now is swallowed up by the sound of rushing cars and the ocean in the distance, carrying him through until the three of them roll up to the city.

It’s been so long since Yu’s been outside Inaba proper that the second his feet hit concrete in the plaza of Okina, it simultaneously feels like taking the first breath of fresh air in ages, and breaking a spell he didn’t even realize had been cast over him. The insularity of Inaba had put his thoughts in a fog that the outside world only just now clears. He missed it.

It’s not just civilization he missed, either, but the two people next to him, even if Yosuke is still deep in the throes of trying to prove something to himself. Kanji is no more enthused than Yu is about it, so rather than humoring him, like they naively had the first time, Yu grabs Kanji and ducks into the cafe.

They at least pretend to talk to some women after they figure their absence from the plaza might become too conspicuous, but Kanji’s more interested in the fabric composition of their outfits, and Yu is more interested in drinking coffee and soaking up the ambiance of an actual city. He considers it a success that they leave without a single number, even as Yosuke flutters about bemoaning his utter lack of so-called game.

Thanks to some convincing from Yu that Yosuke really does not need to call anyone—they can all declare the mission a failure together, it’s not like Yu or Kanji got anything—they return home with their bikes intact, and with plenty of time for Yu to start the tutoring job he’s only just gotten the opportunity to take. He bids goodbye to his friends with the promise they’ll have to rope the girls in next time, too, and gathers his bag before heading to the bus stop.

Shu is as ornery as ever, even if he hasn’t seen him in over a dozen loops due to time constraints, but even as snippy and awkward as he is, Yu’s immediately hit with the nostalgia of their time together, too. His thin frame, outward hostility, and mask of confidence remind him of others he knows, or at least maybe who they used to be, and more than a little of himself at that age. Despite his attempts to push Yu away, he settles down at his desk with a smile, opening up his books.

After finishing the session, Yu promises to be back despite Shu’s deep-seated frown, but as he turns to walk out, he swears he sees a small, shy smile on his face when he glances back, and that reminds him of someone else he knows, too.

With nothing on the horizon in terms of the timeline until Rise comes to town later in the month, the only thing to plan for in the immediate future is the school trip—something that’s already abuzz in the mouths of all of his friends. Yukiko and Chie are excited to cook, and Yu usually makes a habit of cutting them off early and declaring that he’ll be making the food, on account of how miserable it is to go through that weekend starving. But something about how genuinely, innocently they want to serve their friends breaks down his defenses this time long enough for Yosuke to get wind of it, and once he’s on board, there’s no talking any of them down. He has every intention of letting them try their absolute best, but also having a backup meal so no one has to go hungry. It’s a white lie, at worst.

He finds himself at Junes a few days before they’re set to leave, basket in hand as he talks to Eri and Yuuta after running into them in the produce section. Their relationship, while still not perfect, has been improving already in the time since Yu’s started visiting them, and it’s heartwarming to see him follow her around the store.

“He’s making curry?” Yuuta asks his stepmother. “You have a good recipe, don’t you?”

He sees Eri’s cheeks turn a little red at that, her skirt swishing as she turns. “Well, only if Yu would want to hear it.”

Yu smiles at the both of them, nodding down at Yuuta. “I would love to.”

It’s not too dissimilar from Yu’s own, and it sounds delicious after she steps aside to scribble it on a slightly-crumpled piece of paper from her purse. He scans the list before saying, “This is perfect, thank you.”

Even though Yuuta is halfway down the aisle when she looks for his reaction, her face lifts a bit at the spring in his step, and Yu feels his own do the same, too.

After gathering ingredients, he parts ways with them to check out, leaving him alone again until he’s crossing through the lobby to see none other than Adachi, stationed at his usual post.

Adachi isn’t alone, however. Rather than just idling by himself, he’s pressed up into the corner by a woman Yu doesn’t recognize, both of them talking low. She looks to be around Adachi’s age, maybe a little older from the side profile, but striking nonetheless, and she’s gleaming with something flirtatious even from where Yu’s standing halfway across the room. Adachi, for his part, has his back up against the wall and his hand scratching at his neck, looking away from her somewhere over her shoulder until his eyes catch Yu’s and go wide. Yu recognizes the plea in them immediately.

“Hey, Adachi,” Yu greets cheerily with an exaggerated wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Adachi does a poor job of not looking relieved, barely stifling an exhale as he pivots towards Yu. “Ah, crap,” he laughs, forced and grating. “That’s the boss’s kid, I gotta go. Sorry!”

The woman frowns, dress fluttering as she adjusts the arm holding her basket. “Well, tell me if you change your mind.”

Once she’s safely out of earshot, Adachi peels himself off the wall and slumps over to Yu, wiping at his forehead. “Phew,” he exhales, putting a hand on his hip. “How persistent. I thought she’d never take no for an answer.”

Yu presses his lips together. “What happened?”

“Wanted me to meet up for drinks later,” Adachi shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest and pulling further into himself before releasing with a sigh that he tries to mask by stretching up into a yawn. “I said no, obviously.”

Yu scans his face, the slightly annoyed pinch of his brows and the uncomfortable line of his lips. “Why?”

Adachi leans against the wall again, but he’s not backed into a corner this time, pressing his shoulder against the windowpane and tapping his foot as he glances outside briefly.

“Not interested in the dating life,” he explains. “Sounds like a pain, all the small talk and ‘getting to know someone’ crap. Besides, she’s not really my type.”

Yu follows him to stand across and lean against the windows as well, making sure to put more space between them than the woman had afforded him. He could probably use it. “Oh?”

“Did you see what was in her basket?” He clicks his tongue, staring up at the ceiling. “She’s probably not even a good cook.”

Yu has no idea what drives him to say, “Maybe you could’ve just had a good time. Like a one-night thing.”

“A good time, huh?” Adachi echoes distantly. “Nah. Not worth it. This town is too small for that kinda stuff, you know? It’d get real awkward.”

Yu wraps his lips around some sort of response to that, but he swallows it when Adachi sharply looks back down. “Anyway,” he laughs, peering at the bags on Yu’s arms. “What’ve you got here?”

When Adachi looks at him, his eyes shine in the fluorescent light.

He invites Adachi over for dinner, naturally. He bought more than enough ingredients to test drive some of the curry he’s planning to make and still have enough for the trip, especially when it’s just the two of them. Nanako’s out at a friend’s again, and thankfully, Adachi doesn’t comment on the strangeness of it this time.

It’s an easy dish to make, but Adachi still perches himself on the kitchen counter and offers, at least cosmetically, to help, though Yu turns most of it down save from washing a vegetable or handing him the measuring cups. Together, they finish the prep in no time, letting the curry set while they settle down by the TV and wait.

It’s quiet between them, uncharacteristically so. Yu watches him as Adachi watches the TV mostly, taking in the profile of his face in the flickering colors of the television and the dim lights of the living room. It’s only when Adachi catches him looking—Yu not reacting quick enough to look away before he’s trapped underneath an unreadable, scrutinizing gaze—that he speaks again.

“Hey, Yu,” he hedges, tipping his first beer of the night, already halfway finished, towards him. “You want some? I won’t tell Dojima.”

Something shifts in the air with his words, spoken low as if they might be overheard by Dojima at any moment, even though he’s not home. He feels the heat of Adachi’s eyes as they trail across his body, and Yu rolls his shoulders before he realizes what he’s doing, like he’s giving him more to look at; whatever he sees pulls Adachi’s lips upwards. As he leans back, evaluating Yu, the curve of his neck is caught in the television light, and Yu’s arrested by the length of it, watching as he works down another sip. He barely remembers to reply.

“Are you sure?” Yu asks, feeling his fingers curl into the flesh of his thighs under the table. Sometimes this never even happens at all, and when it does, it’s not always a good thing—brought about by a cruel sort of apathy rather than whatever this is. He studies Adachi’s face, and there’s a certain curiosity there, goading, but it’s not barbed with something Yu’s afraid to touch. There’s clarity and warmth to how he speaks, and to the glint across his irises.

“Positive.” Adachi tilts his head back, exposing more of his neckline, his sharp collarbones. He winks across the table, a little bit of his teeth showing. “If you think you can handle it.”

That’s not the issue, here. Yu swallows, and holds out his hand. “Let me try.”

Adachi meets Yu halfway across the table. Their fingers brush as Adachi passes the bottle, and the contact lingers for a moment, fingers dragging across each other as they both pull back. Adachi doesn’t even startle at the touch, his gaze steadying over Yu over the top of the bottle, and Yu does his best to meet it, already feeling the need to sit up taller.

Yu feels like a specimen, something rare with the way Adachi is watching him, lips parted just so. Yu wills his hands steady as he raises the bottle to his lips. It’s bitter and unpleasant, it always is, but it tastes like something familiar, something dangerous and exciting, and he buzzes with it immediately, every drop of his generous sip rushing to his head. He sets the bottle down and wipes at his lips, glancing over his sleeve in some sort of bid for approval.

“Damn,” Adachi whistles, arching his brows as he lowers back on his hands up against the couch, regarding him. “Go right ahead, then. Guess you’ve done this before.”

“Only with you,” he replies, because it’s technically true. “So not really.”

Adachi holds out his hand, and with more reluctance than he expects, Yu hands him the bottle, their fingertips barely meeting. Still, Adachi watches him like a hawk, a low, unbroken intensity simmering under the dim kitchen lights, even when he brings the bottle to his mouth. Yu stares back at him just as openly, blinking across the table. Adachi twists his wrist, turning the beer in his hand, before he wraps his lips around the exact spot that Yu had and drinks deep, closing his eyes and breaking their contact after what must be minutes as it works down the length of his throat.

“Well then,” Adachi says as he finishes the bottle. “You must be a natural.”

Yu doesn’t feel very natural at all.

Yu knew that the day would come soon, but right now, on the eve of the school trip, he’s not exactly thrilled that moment is upon him.

“We need to go back to Yomi,” Yosuke declares over rooftop lunch, some cloud cover overhead tempering the midday heat. “We have enough people now, and we still don’t know anything about it.”

“Now?” Chie asks around a bite of steak, muffling her words. “But we have the school trip this weekend.”

After catching Kanji’s confused glance and filling him in, to Yu’s disappointment, he is also immediately on board. “We gotta,” he declares after he’s gotten the idea, sucking his juice box down noisily. “If there’s something about that world we can figure out, we should do it, right?”

Yosuke nods, looking grateful to have someone immediately on his side. “Right,” he says, with a definitive cross of his legs. “If we can figure out how to stop this from happening to someone else, we have to, yeah?”

When Yu doesn’t immediately reply, Yosuke elbows him softly in the ribs and says, “What do you think, Leader?”

What Yu thinks is that he’s been having a fine enough time traversing it with Adachi alone, considering the whole lot of nothing they’ve found out from that place, but he can’t say any of that without giving himself away. With the rationale Yosuke has just given, he feels four sets of eyes train on him in the space it takes him to breathe. Instead, he says, “If you all feel ready.”

“I feel ready,” Chie says, swinging her legs back and forth underneath the bench as she grips the edge, humming. “As long as we don’t miss the trip.”

“Why would we?” Yukiko assures her, picking up a piece of tofu with her chopsticks. “Even if we’re tired, we should have plenty of time to rest.”

That seems enough to convince Chie, and with that, Yu is thoroughly outnumbered, leaving any sort of argument against it stuck in the walls of his throat. He swallows it down and attempts a smile. Before the conversation can move on, Yosuke asks, “Is Adachi free tonight? We should go in with everyone.”

Too many people are looking at him to avoid getting out his phone and texting him under their scrutiny, so he does, and to his regret, Adachi replies not a few moments later that he’s off early tonight, finding him with no excuse to postpone it any more. With their plans set in stone, the subject changes quickly to school, Yu contemplating mist and pine needles for the rest of the crawling afternoon in its wake.

By the end of the day, Yu has almost convinced himself this might be a good idea. It probably is about the time that they should be ready for Yomi, with the strength of their group if not individually, and the mystery is supposed to be hanging over all of their heads equally. When they arrive at Junes and fill Adachi in on their plans, he’s grateful he’s smart, because he doesn’t have to tell him twice to keep what he knows to himself. He just meets Yu’s gaze over the top of their friends’ heads and nods.

“We haven’t been in there in ages,” Yosuke explains, like Adachi has no idea what’s going on. He does a good job of acting the part, too, nodding animatedly as Yosuke monologues all the way to the back of the electronics department. “It was really dangerous last time, so stay close and follow our lead.”

Yu sends him a sympathetic glance, but he’s too caught up in his acting to spare him the knowing look back. They all climb into the TV, and when they come to on the studio floor, Adachi even asks Chie what it looks like, making a big, slack-jawed show of not knowing.

“Oh, it’s Kanji!” Teddie declares as soon as he bounds up to them, looking Kanji up and down with an excited wave. Kanji waves back, blinking through what for him must be an incredibly thick fog. “I knew I made an extra pair of glasses today for a reason!”

Kanji takes the glasses and gives him the same once-over through his newfound clarity, stuttering after a long minute, “C-Can I touch your fur?”

The elated, mystified mutter of, “Soft,” Kanji lets out as he does so, along with Teddie’s preening smile, lets Yu know that this loop, too, will find them fast friends.

“You want to go back there?” Teddie asks once they tell him their plans, bug-eyed with his mouth in a nervous little grimace. “Why?”

When no one else immediately answers, Yu swallows, and does his duties as leader. “We have to find out what’s there,” he explains, smoothly, as if it really were the first time. Or so he hopes. “If there’s a clue that will help us with these kidnappings, we need it.”

“Well, alright,” Teddie hedges, scooting forward slowly to lead them towards the side catwalk that leads to the upper entrance of the forest. It’s been so long since Yu’s gone in this way, he’s almost forgotten this platform exists at all. “I don’t know what you’ll find, though.”

This time, Adachi does meet Yu’s eyes again, and he swears he sees a little glint there, the glimmer of a joke just for them, and Yu has to hide a smile behind his collar, turning away like he’s looking up at the yellow, boundless sky so the rest don’t see it. He nearly walks into Teddie in the process.

They reach the edge of the platform in no time, and after convincing Kanji and Yukiko it’s really safe to walk down the side of the cliff, and pretending to convince Adachi of the same, they traverse down the valley overlooking the forest, moss-covered TV still sitting in wait at the bottom. Kanji looks a little bit green with the disorientation, but Yukiko seems to recover from it well, as does Adachi, even though he’s only ever taken him in through his bedroom TV.

The forest is the same as it always is, tranquil and eerie, misty and lush, but he’s more interested in his friends’ reactions as they take it in anew, watching them scan across the treelines and pathways with wide eyes and parted lips. Adachi puts on an exaggerated show of awe and disbelief. Yukiko immediately steps up to one of the trees to feel the bark, but Kanji hangs back to look at it all in full, tilting his head up towards the tall trees with a whistle.

“What is this place?” Kanji asks, brows furrowed as he takes in the ambiance of the forest.

Yu steps up next to him from where he’d been hanging back by the cliffside. “It’s a forest of Shadows,” he explains, watching out of the corner of his eye as Adachi appears to ask Yosuke the same thing. “And believe me, there are lots of them. That’s all we know. We’ve only been here once.”

“Huh,” Kanji scratches at his jaw, kicking at a rock beneath his feet. “Well, alright.”

Whatever explanation Yosuke gives Adachi—Yu strains his ears, but he can’t quite make it out—he gives a nod and a long ‘ah’ in reply, and as Yukiko overhears it, it seems to satisfy her as well. As both conversations die down, everyone turns to Yu for direction, and he straightens his shoulders, unsheathing his sword. Even with their increased strength, he’ll have to do most of the work, and there’s more bodies to look after than he’s ever had to, here.

“Well,” he begins, tapping the tip of his sword against the dirt and carving an indistinct pattern with a lazy circle of his wrist, as he surveys the group. “Let’s head inside.”

They pass the threshold of the forest, and it doesn’t take long at all for it to become very clear that this was a mistake, but not for the reason he expects.

The Shadows, on the whole, aren’t overly difficult when they combine all of their strengths. It still takes them a while to chip away at them, and when the Shadows hit, they hit hard, but Yosuke was right in that they are finally at the level they can properly fight back—challenging without the immediate risk of death. As they crawl through the initial phases of the forest slowly, nothing new is revealed, no matter how many times someone stops to examine every thicket and every clearing and every signpost or stream that they pass.

What takes him by surprise, though, is something else entirely. It’s Adachi.

It isn’t obvious, at first. At the entrance to the forest, he was as himself as he ever can be, or at least the Adachi that Yu has come to expect when his friends are around, but the second they stepped inside, something seemed to change. It isn’t an immediate switch. It isn’t until after the first few Shadows that Yu begins to notice anything at all, and when he does, it’s only a sense of heaviness that casts over him, a sort of dark cloud that circles above. Something about his presence commands his focus and increased concern, with something else indescribable crawling in his chest.

A few more Shadows down, and the problem becomes clearer when Yu catches Adachi’s eyes over the clearing, and it’s nothing like earlier. This is incidental, and it scorches Yu’s entire body—because when Adachi’s eyes hit the light, there’s nothing reflected.

“Are you okay?” he asks Adachi under his breath.

“I’m fine,” he says, blankly. Yu thinks he’s heard that before, and he’s worried that it’s not an assurance. He’s staring straight ahead, the line of his jaw set. His eyes are storm-dark. “Don’t worry, kid.”

His tone is jovial, but it feels wrong, forced. Still, no matter how long he looks at him after that, it’s all Adachi gives him, and not long after, they run into another Shadow, and it gets lost in the chaos of the battle.

He seems to hang in this balance, halfway between himself and something else, and while Yu is busy wracking his brain for excuses to turn back around before the rest of the team notices, he stumbles past a clearing, and suddenly, he’s somewhere he’s never seen before.

They followed the path that takes them around past the waterfall, as Yu always does, but rather than doubling back and heading in towards more of the forest, the path this time has led them behind the waterfall. Instead of another patch of endless forest, what he sees in front of him is the rushing water, closer than he’s ever seen it, deafening as it cascades over a grey cliffside into the stream. Next to it, though, is the entrance to what looks like a cave system, wide and tall with jagged rocks beyond the mouth pushing out from the walls, shining when the light hits them just right before the darkness swallows them up.

He looks towards Adachi to see his reaction, but when he does, his blood goes as cold as the look on Adachi’s face, stoney and cruel.

“Do we have to go in here?” he whines, but his voice doesn’t match his face at all, and it’s uncanny, like a robot with too-human features. “Looks creepy.”

A second ago, Yu wanted nothing more than the chance to explore something new in Yomi, but he’s already questioning it. It’s too late, though, because Yosuke is already hedging up towards it to look into the mouth.

“We gotta check it out, right?” Yosuke asks, looking back towards the others for confirmation. He’s greeted by mostly nods, and in the end, Yu buckles and feels like he has to as well. Adachi simply declines to comment. “Let’s go.”

Yu steps forward to take the lead, and as they enter the cave, the glow of the forest slowly begins to dissipate as the shimmer of the crystals begins to take its place. They glitter yellow and blue and green, illuminating their pathway enough to see even in the darkness. They move quietly and cautiously at first, rounding the bend to see if there’s another Shadow. When there’s not, Adachi moves out in front and takes the lead from Yu, walking briskly with a clack of his heels down the tunnel.

“Adachi,” Yu calls after him, and his voice echoes. It’s getting darker now, narrower through the caverns, and Yu doesn’t have any idea what’s down here or how deep this goes. Adachi doesn’t turn around at all, continuing to walk faster until he rounds another corner and is out of sight.

There hasn’t been a glint of light in his eyes since he stepped into the cave, and Yu is terrified to see them now, but he picks up the pace to catch him, even as he hears Yosuke call his own name from behind.

“Adachi!”

He loses him around another corner. Adachi doesn’t bother to break his stride, turn back around, or acknowledge him at all, and the crystals have nearly nothing to refract now, shrouding their entire path in darkness. He almost trips on a jutting rock, the walls closing in so tight he can feel the dirt brush up against his shoulders.

He throws his arm out, and finally, it collides with something tangible and alive, his fingers grasping wildly until he can find a purchase on Adachi’s bony arm and hold. “Adachi, slow down.”

He’s shaken off with a rough, strong jolt, the force of which Yu has a difficult time believing comes from Adachi’s thin frame, no matter how strong Yu knows he is underneath it. The voice, too, is distorted and cold as Adachi bites, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

Everything was spinning from the chase, but it all comes crashing to a stop now as his words ring through the cave. Even his friends’ steps chasing behind him slow, and Yu drops his hand as if it had caught fire.

“We need to go,” Yu says firmly. “Now.”

Yu can see Adachi’s eyes in the last vestiges of crystalline light, and he wishes he couldn’t. They glint red and yellow and green. “I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

Yu tries to catch his breath, choking on the thin, stale oxygen. “Then let’s leave.”

Everything in his body is itching to run back the other way, but he waits, patiently, until Adachi reluctantly takes a step forward and crosses back over towards the rest of the team, mouth curled into a snarl before he hides it behind the sleeve of his jacket, wiping at his face. Only once he’s caught back up with the others does Yu follow, bringing up the rear as they turn back down the other way, a heavy atmosphere hanging over their heads that sucks the remaining air out of the cavern.

“Something’s wrong,” Yosuke mutters to him, peeling back at his side. “What’s going on with him?”

Yu has no idea how to approach this, let alone on the fly with Adachi still in earshot, so he just whispers, “I’ll tell you later.”

The walk back out of the cave feels like it takes twice as long as the walk in, and each step feels like an eternity. When golden daylight breaks on the other side, he heaves a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, sucking in the fresh, pine-soaked air and letting it wash over him.

Outside, Adachi’s eyes aren’t any clearer, but the version of him inside the cave was pulled taut like a marionette, and walking outside of it cuts the strings, shoulders slouching as he crumples in on himself and sighs.

“We’ve done enough for today,” Yu says, resisting the urge to rub at the headache forming behind his temples. He’s exhausted, and they’ve barely even started. “We have a trip tomorrow.”

His friends look more than ready to agree.

He probably doesn’t have to ask Adachi twice.

Chapter Text

Mountain air pierces his lungs, and among the laughter of his friends, Yu feels alive.

He’ll have splinters up and down his forearms from the fraying wood of these ancient picnic tables, but he doesn’t care. There are bugs nipping at their heels in the dirt underneath the table, but the sway of his feet shakes them off when he laughs, or talks, or listens, and there’s too much bustle and noise for them to hang around the air for too long, despite the smell of food wafting up from the pavilion. Their buzzing just adds to the colorful ambiance of the noise around them, the delicate sounds of nature mixing with the chatter and laughter of their classmates and the clank of utensils as food is made and passed around.

Despite the chill of the thin breeze up at a higher altitude, he feels warm on either side, with Kanji on one side and Yosuke and Naoki on the other, and although there’s enough space that no one is touching, it’s close enough that he can feel the whispers of their presence. It’s just a brush of wind when they turn to talk or grab more curry, but it makes him feel surrounded, present in the moment and chained to reality in a way that’s been rare over these past few years. There’s dirt underneath his nails as he reaches for more curry himself, but he doesn’t have it in him to mind it, enjoying the flavorful scent that wafts up, mixing with the smell of foliage and pine that clouds the air into something warmly aromatic, and Yu thinks he’ll remember this moment.

There’s been so little he’s wanted to commit to memory of this place in the loops, even though he’s been here a dozen times. It’s just a camp. But here, this time, Yu remembers the charm of it, the initial thrill of escaping into the wilderness with his closest friends. He can feel it now, and Yu doesn’t think the indelible nature of the moment can be chalked up to just proper food to share it over.

“Thanks for dinner, guys,” Chie says as she finally sits down next to Yukiko after cleaning up her own mess, wiping some sweat and dirt off her brow. She tried to pawn some of her and Yukiko’s unmitigated disaster onto Hanako, but Yu intercepted with a bowl of his own curry that he’d been making with Naoki quietly in the background, ensuring that no one would have to endure whatever mess they created this time around. Their Mystery Food X is a little bit different every time, but impressively, it is never better. Sometimes, it’s even worse. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” Yukiko fiddles with her hands, staring down at her half-finished bowl of curry with a sigh. Yu didn’t try it himself this time, and Yosuke is quick to remind her with a kick under the table that neither did she, but just the scent of it alone was enough to almost knock him off his feet. “But yours is probably much better, true.”

“We wanted to try out this recipe,” Yu explains, putting some to his lips. It’s delicious, just spicy enough without being overbearing, with a deep, rich flavor. He’ll have to thank Eri profusely next time he sees her for saving the day. Over the table, he looks past Yosuke to share a quick wink with Naoki. They’d cooked it under the guise of Yu helping Naoki with his dinner, so as to not offend Yukiko and Chie or dampen Yosuke’s delighted mood at the prospect of food cooked by girls, but he’d warned Naoki of this outcome beforehand. It’s their secret now, though. “And it happened to make a lot, so it works out.”

“Not bad, kid,” Saki Konishi says from her perch a little bit further away, slowly working at her curry as she pushes it around in her bowl. It’s strange—Yu always imagined her to be popular among the other girls, but seeing them all on this trip together, he’s found that she’s alone more often than not, meandering along the tables by herself before he and Naoki invited her over to join them. Still, she rolled her eyes before taking the invitation, and is a bit curled into herself now, even as the curry has loosened her stance. “This is pretty good, you two.”

“I helped a little,” Yosuke is quick to declare, stuttering into his words. “At the end.”

Saki clicks her tongue, but Yu sees her lips twitch up, just a little, as she says, “I’m sure you did.”

“You helped plate it,” Naoki says, glancing to Yosuke with a helpful shrug. “That was important.”

Even in profile, Yosuke looks surprised at that, his eyes widening a bit with a sheepish look. “Yeah, I did.”

It’s later than everyone else is eating; the rest of the classes are just chatting over empty tables or already heading off towards making camp for the night. Technically, Yu could have just stopped all of this at the head and not let Yukiko and Chie cook to begin with, but something would have felt off if it didn’t at least happen. It was satisfying to watch Yosuke try a single bite before crumpling into a pile on the bench, like a certain milestone was being crossed, but it felt even more satisfying to bring in the rescue team and see him spring back to life, declaring Yu’s supreme immanence as Leader with a deeply bowed head before offering to help get it out to all the victims, including a comatose Kanji.

Now, with Yosuke’s exuberance in helping with the final steps, they have more than enough to feed everyone gathered around and then some, the conversation as lively as the flavors of the curry in front of them. It’s new and old all at once to have everyone around like this, familiar and unlived like a shadow of something he should have had long before, but has only just now managed to get into his hands.

“I’m, uh, pretty good in the kitchen,” Yosuke slides his elbow across the table, nearly getting it in the curry. He blinks up at Saki, putting on that smarmy, forced sort of nonchalance that looks painful even from where Yu’s sitting. “I’ve been told.”

Saki just blinks at him like she doesn’t understand what he means in the least, but Naoki laughs softly at that, leaning over the table as he cups his hand over his mouth to stifle the already quiet sound as he looks up at Yosuke like he’s said something accidentally brilliant that no one else gets. Yosuke’s brows curl as he looks at the face of Saki’s indifference before he notices her brother, cocking his head to the side.

Chie lets out a bark of ugly laughter. “By who?” she scoffs, and that breaks some of the awkward, stilted air that had fallen at Yosuke’s words, earning a quiet titter from Yukiko.

Before Yosuke can come up with a retort, Yukiko cuts in with a question to Saki about her college applications and the conversation moves on, leaving Yu to watch out of the corner of his eye as Yosuke looks between the two siblings with an inscrutable look on his face.

They begin to clean up a little bit later, Yu working to gather up the plates to wash underneath the rudimentary water hose that serves as a dishwashing station out by the edge of the pavilion. The rest of the gang, Saki and Naoki included, roll up their sleeves to help with their own individual dishes, and despite the unglamorous nature of the task, Yu feels warmth, true warmth, bubbling up within him.

The sun is lowering down on the horizon by the time they finish up and begin to part ways back to their camps, the buzzing of insects swelling louder in the pooling early summer night heat. Yu gathers the rest of his supplies and hangs tight with Yosuke to head to their tent, remaining with Naoki and Kanji as they gather up their own supplies to do the same, the girls already long packed.

“You know, I’ve never been to Junes,” Naoki says as he arranges his bag, pulling it over his shoulder. “You work there, right?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke replies, hands in his pocket as he stifles a yawn. The journey getting up here was exhausting enough, and although Yosuke isn’t alone in hoping for an early and easy night’s sleep, Yu knows better than to hope they’ll get it. They never have, not once. “I do.”

Naoki hums, beginning to walk towards the boys’ tent area. Yu and the rest follow, the crunch of grass beneath their feet a soundtrack between their words. “I’ve always been afraid of what my family would say, so I’ve never gone.”

“I’ll take you sometime,” Yosuke promises, like it’s automatic. He stills like the words take him off-guard, but he just smiles into it, scratching at the back of his head. “I’ll treat you to—” He looks around furtively for Chie and lowers his voice. “Steak. Just let me know! Any friend of Yu is a friend of mine, yeah?”

Naoki smiles, before he parts down to his own tent. “Yeah.”

Yu and Yosuke set up with the intent of being alone, but it’s not long until Kanji finds his way in, as he always does after a few rounds of cards and a customary awkward question about girls that Yu deflects. Kanji brings with him his usual pack of animal crackers—a detail that has strangely never changed—and a shy, slightly ashamed look in his eye as he peeks through the tent, crawling in one too-long leg at a time.

“Can I stay with you guys?” Kanji asks, sleeping bag slung awkwardly over his shoulder as he crouches down in the too-small space. “My tent mate has been... uh…”

Yu spares him the burden of having to explain when whatever it is clearly is raising something red and painful to his cheeks, holding up a hand and nodding. “Of course. Right, Yosuke?”

Yosuke has relegated himself to the other side of the tent with the suspicious amount of distance he’s immediately worked to put between Kanji’s body and his, crawling to the opposite edge of the space as soon as Kanji sets down his sleeping bag. His knees are pulled up to his chest, arms around them tight like he’s using them as a shield, and it takes a few seconds for him to reply, a little too flippant, “Yeah, yeah. Of course, dude.”

Still, Kanji seems genuinely grateful for the invitation, his face softening as he sets out his things, careful to take up the least amount of space possible with how securely he keeps his belongings shoved in the corner of the tent he’s claimed as his own, delicate as he rifles through them for his animal crackers. “Thanks, guys.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Yu insists, soft but firm as Kanji regards him, wide-eyed with the bag of crackers in hand before he slowly reaches out and offers the both of them one. Yosuke is much slower to accept the token of gratitude than Yu, but he eventually gets the hint.

Night has long fallen by now, and it’s quiet, save for the slight, indistinct murmurs of their classmates that fill the forest. They keep their voices low as they make small talk about the day, but it doesn’t take long for the tension, which has been radiating out of Yosuke’s body since Kanji arrived, to finally snap, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, he asks, point blank, “Are you really…?”

Kanji stares him down with a stone-faced blankness, shoving an animal cracker in his mouth with a vicious tear. He lowers his voice down nearly an octave, a tinge defensive even as he meets Yu’s sympathetic gaze. “Am I really what?”

Yosuke groans, lowering his head. “You know,” he gestures vaguely with a hand above his head, refusing to look anyone in the eye. “Like that.”

Kanji crosses his legs and rubs at his temples as Yosuke completely ignores the stern glance Yu gives him, too fixated on the floor of the tent to bother looking up. Kanji doesn’t miss him, however, and when they meet each other across the tent, Yu bites his lip in a silent apology and shakes his head, a reminder that he doesn’t have to say anything he doesn’t want to, but Kanji just shrugs his shoulders and sighs before straightening back up.

“What,” he says, and his voice is still gruff, low, but the words are clear, even though it’s obvious he’s pushing them out through gritted teeth. “You got a problem with that?”

Yosuke draws back even further against the tent and pulls the lean of the tent with him before he reels forward with a stumble, clambering to get his leg-shield back up. “Well, no, I just…”

Both Yu and Kanji look at him: Yu in a warning, brows set stern and lips in a hard line, while Kanji just sits as still as a statue, gargoyle-esque as he glowers down, but Yu can see the pinched, soft fear at the corners.

Yosuke shifts in place under the attention, face cracking into a grimace as he adjusts the fall of his hair with a quick, nervous motion. “You’re not gonna do anything, right?”

Kanji closes his eyes shut again and squares his shoulders back, steeling himself in preparation for a line of questioning Yu too knows all too well. Kanji can weather this moment with as much grace and poise as he’s capable of, depending on his mood and the loop. In the space that awkward, awful question leaves, Yu decides, with a skip of his heartbeat and a swallow to clear the lump in his throat, to take the third option.

“Yosuke,” Yu begins, gathering his attention back from Kanji with a tap of his foot against his shin when his name alone doesn’t do the trick. He jumps a little in his seat, but he loosens when he meets Yu’s gaze, finding safety in it that Kanji doesn’t provide. He almost feels bad for what he’s about to do, but not quite. “You know I’m gay, right?”

It sucks all the air out of the tent in one fell swoop, two sets of eyes now watching with all the intensity of a museum display, spotlight over his head and subject to their endless, fascinated scrutiny. Kanji’s entire face goes wide, twitching in motion as if he doesn’t quite know what expression to make other than surprise, while at Yu’s own side, Yosuke just stares like a fish in a tank, gaping and blank. The spell lasts for several seconds before they both seem to simultaneously break, Kanji leaning back with a whistle and Yosuke feverishly switching between the two of them, trying to put together some sort of impossible math equation in his head.

“Oh.” Kanji is the first to speak up, as he seems to regain control of his facial muscles. “That’s cool.” He scratches at his cheek, searching around the room twice before clearing his throat, glancing down, and adding, “Me too.”

“Nope, didn’t know that,” Yosuke eventually says, voice several pitches higher than normal without a single space between his words. “Not a problem, though! Either of you!”

“Really?” Yu asks, holding out his hand for another animal cracker. Kanji offers him one not a few seconds later, a camel, and Yu eats it all at once. “That’s good to know.”

Slowly, Yosuke inches off the very edge of the tent and back onto his own sleeping bag, and although he doesn’t lower his knees, he slumps a little bit over them, less tense than he was a few seconds ago but still strung up, rubbing at his nose. “Both of you?”

Kanji looks to Yu before saying, “Yeah.” He offers Yosuke another animal cracker as well, and he eyes it with only residual suspicion before he takes it, turning it over in his hands before taking a small, cautious bite. “I guess so.”

Yosuke opens his mouth, then closes it twice, like he has something to say that’s just on the tip of his tongue, but whatever it is, after setting his gaze between the two of them, he decides against it. He eats the cracker, wiping the crumbs on his jeans and finally lowering his legs into a cross, yawning wide.

“Well,” Yosuke finally says, still not looking anyone in the eye. He’s no longer holding himself as if he’d like to disappear into the wall of the tent, though, and there’s something contemplative across his face, a storm brewing behind his eyes. “To each their own, I guess.”

Yu hums, taking one last animal cracker from Kanji’s outstretched hand. “To each their own.”

After everyone else is asleep, at least for the time being, Yu is still feeling impulsive.

By his calculations, it won’t be long until the girls come rushing into the tent, and not long after that, Morooka will come around drunk, thoroughly dashing any hopes they have at a good night’s rest and ruining the highlight of the trip they’re supposed to enjoy in the morning. This is how this day always goes; Yu’s lived it enough times to know the spacing like the back of his hand. But this day has never included Naoki or Saki at the table, and it’s never included the conversation they had just now.

For the first time in a long time, he’s not afraid of what he’s changing. They deserve to actually enjoy their trip.

When he’s sure the others won’t notice his absence, he sneaks out with about ten minutes left until the girls arrive, careful to shut the tent quietly behind him. He’s been here enough times to know by memory where all the faculty tents are, and he makes his way there on the balls of his feet, sneaking back behind the tents beneath the trees. He doesn’t know exactly where what he’s looking for is kept, but judging by the fire that’s still roaring out by the center of the valley the teachers have commandeered, it can’t be far from the source. Sure enough, as he pulls up around it, he sees Morooka still sitting alone by the fire, bottle in hand as he rants and raves under his breath to himself about nothing, oblivious to Yu’s presence.

Yu situates himself behind a tree, scanning the firepit until he sees what he’s looking for: a large handle of alcohol at his side. He has no idea how he’ll approach, let alone take it, without being noticed; but serendipitously, not long after Yu situates himself behind the fire, Morooka gets up to take a leak in the forest, mumbling to himself as he disappears into the opposite thicket of trees down by the river.

Yu dashes across the clearing, watching through the trees to make sure his teacher’s back is fully turned before he snags the bottle, left leaned up against the log Moroka was sitting on, and another unopened one from his bag right next to it, careful to avoid the bottles clinking together. When he reaches the cover of the trees again, he stops to wipe at his brow before making his way farther into the thicket of trees until he’s satisfied that he won’t be noticed even when Morooka turns around.

For a brief, enticing moment, he imagines putting the unopened bottle to his lips and taking a swig, just to feed the daring rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins, but it isn’t long until he thinks the better of it. He uncaps the bottles and dumps them unceremoniously onto the forest floor, wrinkling his nose at the stench. When they’re empty, he sets them on a nearby rock and sprints back up the hill to the second year camp, covering his laughter with the back of his hand when he hears Morooka’s anguished cries of frustration and anger rise up through the valley.

He beats the girls by just a hair, sliding back into the tent and into his sleeping bag just moments before he begins to hear Yukiko and Chie’s voices from outside, still catching his breath when they knock on the tent flap.

“Let us in,” Chie stage-whispers, furiously tapping on the zipper. “We came up here because we can’t sleep, but now King Moron’s on a tirade and we’re absolute goners if we don’t hide stat!”

Yosuke fumbles awake at the noise, accidentally whacking Yu in the face with his arm in the process. “Huh?”

As the most awake, Yu is the quickest, rising up to his knees and crawling over to throw the tent door open and ushering them inside, taking a glance down the lane of tents to make sure Morooka isn’t anywhere in eyesight as they slide in through the flap.

“What’s going on?” Yu asks, quietly. Kanji just now seems to wake up, grumbling loudly as he tosses and turns, blinking his eyes open. Yukiko sternly puts a finger to her lips and pushes at him to move. Yu zips up the rest of the tent as Chie and Yukiko settle in behind him in the tiny space left over.

“He thinks someone stole his alcohol.” Chie rolls her eyes, pulling her legs up to give Yukiko room at her side. Yosuke gives a long, beleaguered sigh and turns on the lantern in the middle of the tent, illuminating the space in a low glow, just enough for everyone to see where they’re putting their hands. “I think he probably lost it, knowing that idiot.”

Yu presses his lips together. “Probably.”

“Anyway,” Yukiko yawns, covering her mouth before rubbing her eyes. “Can we sleep here tonight?”

Yosuke groans but scoots over even further to the side of the tent, pushing Yu’s sleeping bag along with him. “Well, we can’t exactly throw you to the wolves, can we?”

“King Moron will probably wake us all up trying to figure out who did it,” Kanji grumbles from the other side of the tent, words muffled by his pillow. “There’s no point to sleeping.”

As if on cue, their teacher’s slurred voice rings out through the forest, calling, “Thief! I’ll find you!”

Everyone draws tense inside the tent, Yosuke sitting up like a bolt in his sleeping bag and putting a finger to his lips. Yu flicks the lantern off as fast as possible before going completely still, the girls inhaling sharply and holding their breath, hands over their faces. They both lower flat to the ground, Kanji scrambling in the bag by his head for an extra blanket to throw over them as if an invisible clock was counting down the seconds until an alarm would ring at the slightest movement.

“Hush hush hush,” Yosuke whispers, as if any of them need the reminder. “They’re not allowed to come in if we don’t give them a reason.”

“I know,” Kanji whispers back, prompting another sharp hush as Morooka’s footsteps echo throughout the camp, getting closer and closer as he approaches tent after tent, calling inside to see if anyone’s awake and peering through any hole in the tent that’s available. Yu’s never been more relieved Yosuke’s is completely opaque.

As he comes up on their tent, his words get more and more slurred, occasionally interspersed with a loud, wide yawn as he continues to knock on flap after flap. Yu feels his heartbeat in his throat and blood rushing in his ears, even though there’s no possible way it could be traced back to him. The eyes of all of his friends are wide and still, owlish in the night, and finally, the carrying footsteps lead right up to them, a looming shadow of their teacher cast across the dark, silent tent.

“Hanamura?” Morooka calls, trying fruitlessly to peer in through the flap of the tent. “I know you’re awake in there.”

Yosuke doesn’t so much as breathe, both hands over his mouth and every single muscle in his body cinched tight up against Yu’s own, a slight tremor to his frame. Yu counts the seconds in the silence as Morooka waits for an answer, a single rustle of movement from inside.

“I’m getting sleepy,” Morooka whines eventually, stumbling into the tarp and nearly sinking into it before he rights himself. Yosuke inhales sharply, then catches himself and looks around the room wildly in apology. Morooka doesn’t seem to notice it, however, too preoccupied with getting back on his feet. “Wanted more… damn brats… I’ll search all your bags in the morning.”

Another three seconds pass with Morooka staring at the tent in silence even after his declaration, and Yu feels his chest pressing and begging for air, but he doesn’t relent, not until Morooka finally turns on his heel and walks back down the hill the other direction, stumbling in his steps and mumbling to himself as he goes. It’s only when he’s almost out of earshot that the entire tent lets out a collective held breath, gasping for air all together.

“That shaved off years of my life,” Yosuke exhales, laughing under his breath like he can’t believe they escaped unscathed. Yu feels his own heart rate struggle to return to normal under his school sweats, a hand to his chest. Something about Yosuke’s awkward little laugh is contagious, his own bubbling up in his throat against his will until it bursts through his lips and he’s struggling to keep quiet, too. That seems to send everyone else off, and once Chie starts giggling under her breath, Yukiko is a goner, lost to badly-hushed fits and starts, the sound of which startles Kanji enough into his own breathy amusement. Yosuke tries to shush them, and then Yu tries to do the same, but it’s a futile effort, all of them practically falling over each other as they try and fail to get each other to quiet down, hands over their own mouths as the adrenaline seeps out of their bodies.

It takes several minutes until everyone is calm again, but once everything has quieted, Yosuke gasps, “Let’s actually go to sleep.”

With another new memory to save in his back pocket, Yu can hardly agree enough.

They do, after all is said and done, get to go swimming. Yu can hardly believe he got away with it, but after a thorough search of everyone’s bags, the teachers were unable to determine who took the alcohol, and with not even teachers supposed to have it on the premises, the school seems unconcerned with chasing down who did it, especially with no visibly intoxicated students as a clear trail. It might be a bigger deal in the city, but it isn’t the first time Inaba has played a little fast and loose with the rules, and Yu will gladly reap the benefit from it.

With no threat of Morooka ruining the clear, beautiful water of the stream, the tent wakes up the next morning, eats their leftover curry by the pavilions, and makes their way down to the waterfront, swim bags in tow. Yu hovers at the edge of the cliffside, because this is the part where Yosuke makes a big show of the girls’ swimsuits, as always, but instead, he finds Yosuke uncharacteristically quiet, hugging his own arms and yawning as he kicks at a rock.

“Are you gonna change?” Yosuke asks them when he eventually speaks, and rather than the sort of goading Yu’s come to expect from him in the face of such a blatant opportunity to leer, he instead looks mildly uncomfortable. Yu pulls his own swim trunks out of his bag to go change behind a tree. Kanji does the same, procuring a Speedo from his duffel. “You’re not swimming in that, yeah?”

“Depends,” Chie retorts, holding her bag, still zipped-up, in front of her protectively. “Are you gonna be weird about it?”

Yosuke looks down at the dirt, continuing to kick at the rock aimlessly and digging the toe of his shoe further and further into the dirt. “No. It’s just a swimsuit.”

“Huh,” Yukiko says, tapping the side of her cheek in thought as she leans on it, bag swaying across her shoulder. “Surprisingly mature of you.”

“Just hurry up and do it,” he mutters, ducking behind an entirely separate thicket of trees to change from where Yu and Kanji peel off to.

The girls go off in a separate direction, and a few minutes later, they all return, school sweats packed back into their bags and swimsuits on. The girls look objectively as lovely as ever, but rather than offering his commentary on it, Yosuke just nods and steps up to the waterfront, looking hasty to jump in the water. “Last one in’s buying Aiya!”

WIthout further preamble, Yosuke jumps over the cliffside and into the river below, hollering loud and high when he comes up for air, more than a little bit of pain edged in his voice. “The water’s great!”

Rather than jumping in from such a height, the rest of them decide to cross a little bit further down the riverbank and climb in a normal amount from there—except for Yu, who hangs back to seem as if being the last one in was purely incidental rather than his plan all along. Then, holding his breath, he dives in feet-first, giving himself a running start to the edge before flinging his body off the side with a splash. The water, as Yu fully anticipated, is as freezing as it ever has been when he’s tried it, and somehow even colder than the first time, but after the initial shock to his system, he finds he adjusts to it quickly, submerging his body underneath it all at once after he’s in to get it over with. It’s painful, like sharp knives, but when he comes up for air, he feels refreshed, like he’s washed anew, and for a brief second, he wonders if the waters of Yomi feel as crisp and brutal before Yosuke splashes him in the face with another playful hit of it and the thought leaves him entirely.

They soak in the water until their fingers start to turn prunish and the sun starts to hang high in the noon sky, splashing each other and talking amongst themselves. Most of their classmates have joined in the river now, even Naoki speaking with some other first years just out of earshot and Saki up the river with some third-year girls, the sight of which warms Yu despite the chill. However, they still have a wide berth from everyone, like the rest of the school knows there’s an unspoken radius separating them from everyone else.

Eventually, the conversation turns to more serious topics—an inevitability when all of them are together like this without anyone else in earshot.

“So,” Yukiko hedges when there’s a break in conversation, treading water in the circle they’ve created together. “What’s been up with Adachi lately?”

Yu knew this conversation was coming, or at least he was fairly certain it’d be soon. “About that…”

Yosuke leans up against the riverbank, his elbows out on the land as he kicks his feet out lazily. “It sounded like you knew something?”

Yu sits on a higher ledge of the river at the head of the circle, feeling the dirt underneath his toes as he speaks. “I have a theory,” he begins, dragging his fingers across the surface of the water. “I think he might be possessed. At least some of the time.”

Kanji turns to Yu from his place at his left-hand side, looking up at him. “What’dya mean?”

“I can’t prove it,” Yu continues, letting his gaze float over each of them evenly. “But there’s something different about him sometimes, right? We’ve all seen it.”

“We definitely saw it in the cave,” Chie groans, kicking her feet out from where she’s treading water beside Yukiko. “That was freaky.”

Freaky is one word to describe it. “Right,” Yu agrees regardless, feeling the slow pull of the river push through his bones. Later that night, his body will rock with the residual motion of it. “It’s not him, or at least I really don’t think it is. There’s a pretty big difference. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s getting worse.”

“We need to keep an eye on it,” Yosuke nods, tapping his fingers against the edge of the riverbank in thought. “I’m worried about it.”

Yukiko hums her concern as well, leaning her head back. “I’m sure it has something to do with that world.”

“Yeah,” Kanji says, scratching at this head. “But it’s scary to think it’s bleeding out here.”

The sun glares down on them, bright and garish, as Yu says, “It is.”

The conversation moves on after that, but for the first time all trip, Yu finds his thoughts a little stuck, muddled away from the moment. His friends laugh and talk, and he joins in as well, but now that Adachi’s on the back of his mind, it’s hard to dislodge him completely.

It’s not until they’re drying off shortly after for lunch before the trek back to Inaba that Yu is grounded again, when Yosuke pulls him aside as they’re packing up the tent.

“Hey, man,” Yosuke says as they’re finishing folding up the tent, looking up from gathering the stakes, a little cautious. “I just wanted to apologize. For earlier.”

Yu pauses where he’s rolling up the tent to somehow desperately fit it back inside the bag. “For what?”

“I know I said some things that maybe…” Yosuke begins, before pausing and biting off whatever was next, seemingly frustrated with himself. He drops down onto the dirt and deposits the stakes he’s collected into their bag, drooping over his legs. “Well. Both you and Kanji being… that way has made me realize I’ve maybe been wrong about some things. I have a lot of thinking to do, but I know I was a jerk.”

Yu just blinks at him, because it’s the most reflection he’s ever heard him make on the subject, and he stills, feeling his face pinch in surprise before he remembers to soften it. “It’s okay, but thanks.”

“It’s not, dude.” Yosuke shakes his head, sighing as he pulls himself to his feet. Yu does the same after going back to the final few tugs of his tent project, sliding the stake holder bag Yosuke gifts him in its proper slot. “Besides, I don’t even know where I stand. In all this.”

It’s as close to an admission as Yosuke’s ever given him, and Yu chances a hand on his shoulder. He flinches, but doesn’t pull away, eyes going a few inches wider under Yu’s even scrutiny. “You don’t have to,” he promises him before dropping his hand, shrugging his shoulder to gesture them up towards the buses where the rest of the group is already waiting.

“Thanks,” Yosuke says, a little breathless.
.

Home brings its own challenges, like a certain Rise Kujikawa on the nightly news.

As always, she announces her intent to escape showbiz and return to her home in Inaba, and the news is abuzz with it, the town swinging the immediate next day into full preparation mode for their very own princess. Without the knowledge of what’s to come, his friends are quiet on her, though Yosuke does text him his unmitigated excitement followed by a quick reminder to watch the Midnight Channel.

The friend who does mention something about it is Marie, whom Yu visits the following day after he gets back from the mountains, something within him itching to give the Velvet Room and its most ornery resident a visit. When he pulls up to the Shopping District, she’s already waiting outside, arms crossed and hat pulled tight over her face, but she brightens a bit when she sees Yu, waving.

“Hey,” he greets as he approaches, hands on his hips. “Wanna go grab some steak?”

“Sure,” she replies, brushing some hair out of her face. There’s a little bit of exhaustion etched across her features, like she’s been lost in thought while Yu’s been gone, and he relates to that in his own way. “Sounds good.”

With steak skewers in hand, they take a seat on the dingy patio furniture by the stand and tear off their first few pieces of rough meat. It’s a few minutes before anyone speaks—despite wanting her presence, Yu isn’t sure what he wanted to talk about at all, but thankfully, it seems like Marie has something behind her eyes, looking Yu up and down as she chews before seeming to find her words.

“So,” Marie begins, peeling off a piece of steak with her fingertips. “You’ve been going back to Yomi.”

Yu winces. “Not alone.”

Marie nods, pressing her lips together and giving a shrug. “True,” she remarks. “That was the condition. It doesn’t seem to have helped you much, though. What’s been up with your pet serial killer lately?”

“Even you’ve noticed?” Yu asks before he can stop himself, rocking back in his seat with a groan as he tears off his own piece of steak, chewing thoroughly before he speaks again. “Where have you seen him?”

“Something’s wrong?” She raises an eyebrow. “I was just asking. He hangs out by the gas station sometimes,” Marie says with a dismissive wave of her wrist, as if this explains it completely. “And I can see him when you take him into Yomi.”

Yu blinks at her, searching her face. “You can?”

“I see everything. Although…” Her expression changes from flippant to thoughtful. “The last time you went in, all I saw was black.”

Yu stops with a piece of meat halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean you can see everything?”

Marie shakes her head, slumping into the palm of her free hand. “I don’t know,” she confesses. “It’s like a channel I can flip to in my own head. It’s always in the back of my mind, if that makes sense.”

Marie waits for him to nod before she continues, “This time, when you went in, I started looking—sorry, I always do, it gets boring in there—but I lost you almost immediately. It’s never happened before. It’s like someone turned the cameras off.”

The slightly uncomfortable feeling that pricks across his back at being watched without his knowledge aside—he doesn’t find it entirely surprising, for reasons he can’t quite articulate—something about her words clicks, and he puts a finger to his chin, tapping.

“The Sagiri.” Yu looks up and meets her eyes, and the pieces that have been itching at the periphery of his thoughts begin to slide together. He can see the eye, staring in the black, and he’s constantly left to wonder how far its reach really lies. “Marie, listen, we found a new area.”

Marie nearly drops her steak skewer onto the table, stopping her hand just before it rests on the steel. Instead, she lets it hang limp from her hand as she stares across the table, unblinking. “No you didn’t. It never changes.”

Yu’s too tired to even begin to synthesize what that means, so he instead takes another bite and takes his time with it, staring down at his own hands, rough with the past few days of nature. “We did,” Yu insists. “It took us behind the waterfall. There was a cave. It’s changing, and if you were blocked, it has something to do with it.”

Marie leans forward across the table towards him, lowering her voice. “Are you saying Ameno-Sagiri controls it?”

Yu considers this, tossing around swarming visions of the cave and Adachi’s eyes before shaking his head. “I can’t tell if it does, or if it just wants to, but it’s pushing Adachi to his limits to try.”

Marie puts her head in the crux of her free hand and drags it down her face. “Controlling the Shadows of Inaba... Its collective unconscious. It makes sense. You probably don’t need me to tell you this is a bad sign, huh?”

Yu sighs and lowers his head, twirling his stick around absently. “Not really,” he agrees, twisting the stem of his skewer back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. “I’m honestly scared to let this go on much longer.”

Marie scoffs at that, giving a single, harsh laugh. “I don’t blame you,” she says, rolling her eyes. “The question is what you’ll do about it, but that rests on you.”

Yu wants to argue that none of his individual actions have ever seemed to have an impact, but as soon as his lips part, something within him snaps them shut, gritting his teeth. “Right.”

Marie just looks at him like she knows something he doesn’t, and it makes her a little sad. “Looks like you’re the only one with the power to dictate the timeline again, huh? Lucky you.”

Yu startles at the change in tone. “What do you mean?”

“Sorry,” she exhales, focus somewhere off towards the side as she takes her time to finish her final bite of steak, a somewhat tense silence lingering between them with the hard set of her brows. When she finally swallows, she continues, a little softer, but no less frustrated, “I’ve been trying to figure out my connection to that place forever, and then things change around you, always you. I hate that I have to wait for someone else.”

It makes him a little sad, too, and he thinks understands the look on her face now. “I’m sorry.”

Marie sighs, long and hard, as Yu finishes his own skewer as well, continuing to twist the empty stem over and over in his hands. When she finds her words again, they’re low, like she doesn’t even want Yu to hear them. “You drive me crazy, sometimes.”

That’s a feeling he shares about himself, but it wouldn’t be productive to mention it. Instead, he opts for, “You’re not alone in that.”

That at least gets her to laugh a little, but she’s still curled into herself, arms crossed over her chest as she bites at her lip, looking anywhere but Yu’s direction. “I wish I had the freedom you do,” she says. “It’s not just Yomi, either. It’s everything. My memories, my past, my friends… They were my friends too, you know. And they don’t remember it at all.”

Yu sees visions of all of them together, Marie laughing and talking amongst them in the later months of the first loop; looking at her now, his heart aches for how small and alone she appears now. “They’ll be your friends again.”

“Not like they are yours,” Marie retorts, but her voice has no venom to it, hollow and defeated. Yu wants to reach across the table and offer some sort of comfort, but she’d just shake it off. “Not like they were the first time. It’s just… you get to do all these things on your time, and I wish I had more control.”

He knows better than to think it’s something he can fix, but still, he hurts for her in a way that stings like a fresh cut. “We’ll do something, soon.”

“I’m sure,” Marie gives a weak facsimile of a smile before letting it drop. “Did you at least have a fun trip? That’s already come up, right?”

“Oh.” Yu stirs, pushing a lock of hair back behind his ear. “Yeah. I did. Thanks.”

When Marie finally looks at him, there’s some warmth there that’s returned between her icy sadness, and Yu meets it with a smile, wishing he could give her more. “That means Rise’s coming soon, doesn’t it?”

Yu nods. “She’s already appeared on the TV.”

“That’s nice,” Marie says, wistful. She folds her hands on the table as she looks out towards the street as neighbors and shopkeepers pass by, oblivious to the strange world around them that Yu and Marie are uniquely burdened by. “I miss her a lot.”

Yu thinks about Rise, and how she’d traipse Marie around town and play dress-up with her and laugh and giggle underneath these very same umbrellas, and then he thinks about his own trip, the light in his friends’ eyes and the slow changes creeping into what used to be perfect repetition, and when he opens his mouth to speak, he can’t prove it for certain, but it must be true.

“They all miss you too,” he says, something catching in his throat. He swallows it down, breathing in. “Even if they don’t know it.”

“Really?” Marie asks, curling her nose. “How?”

“I don’t know.” Yu closes his eyes, and thinks of the sun. “But they do.”

Chapter Text

Summer arrives with the slow creep of a lit fuse down a firework.

It starts with the familiar churn of the rumor mill. The first few days after Rise shows up in Inaba, he can’t go anywhere without hearing her name; it’s gradual with her appearance on the nightly news, then spread like a plague by the time she appears in Inaba proper, donning an apron behind the Marukyu shop and refusing to take questions that aren’t about the firmness of tofu.

He finds the rest of the team a bit swept up in the celebrity of it as they work to actually track her down, having insisted on trying to warn her. They’re practically giddy as they arrive at the tofu shop—along with the rest of the town, with every citizen desperate to get a peek at the famed Risette. Even Yosuke has a picture of her he wants autographed in his pocket. The local news is there as well, an assistant freshening Mayumi Yamano’s face as another straps a microphone to her shirt collar, readying for an exclusive segment on Inaba’s new resident curiosity.

The plan was to tell her themselves, as they usually do, but Adachi has already had to apprehend a stalker with an incredibly expensive-looking camera for sneaking behind the security line, and the chaos is too much to duck in, even if Adachi gave them the pass. Yu fights his way to the edge of the crowd and gives Adachi a wave, his friends following.

“Can you tell her to keep an eye out?” Yu asks Adachi over the voices, just loud enough for Adachi to hear. He looks back over his shoulder from where he’s pushed yet another teenager back, nodding at Yu. “You know what’s coming next.”

“Sure can,” Adachi says, glancing back at Dojima holding the other part of the line on the opposite end of the sidewalk. “You want any tofu?”

Yu puts in an order for soft tofu squares while Yosuke shoves his photocard of Risette in Adachi’s reluctant hands and begs for an autograph, to which Adachi rolls his eyes, but pockets the picture in his suit jacket all the same. “Give us a few minutes.”

It takes a while for Adachi to snag a break, but eventually he manages to call another detective over to take his spot, running to murmur something in Dojima’s ear before they both disappear into the tofu shop. Yu scans across the tops of everyone’s heads until he finds the greasy black hair of what looks like Mitsuo Kubo beside one of the trees, but when he blinks, it’s gone again, and perhaps it was a mirage from the heat and dozens and dozens of bodies pressed up against them.

Around ten minutes later, Adachi takes his place back at the head of the police line and Dojima returns to his, pushing aside more people that had creeped closer to the barrier in his absence. Yu does his best to act inconspicuous as he closes in on him again, but the rest follow noisily in his wake, and he thanks his stars that Dojima is well and occupied.

“What did she say?” Chie asks, squeezing through a couple to reach Yu’s side.

“She’ll do her best,” Adachi shrugs, fishing around in his pockets before handing Yu his packets of tofu. They look delicious and lightly pressed to perfection, as always. “Nothing really more to be done.”

Realistically, he’s right—there’s nothing more that they can do for her, but that still doesn’t seem to satisfy everyone, especially Yosuke, who hums thoughtful and quiet. Then he perks up and asks, “Did you get my card signed at least?”

“Whoops,” Adachi says, monotone, the word falling off from his tongue and flopping onto the cement. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the still-blank photocard, waving it in front of his face. “I forgot.”

Yosuke snatches it back with a curl of his lips. “You suck, Adachi.”

He just shrugs like he already knew that before turning to yet another truant attempting to skip the line. With no hope of getting in themselves, and no point in repeating what the police have already done, they’re left back at square one: waiting for the Midnight Channel.

He’s so busy waiting for it, in fact, that he almost forgets what’s coming next.

Morooka isn’t at school the following Monday.

When Yu slides into his seat, the class sounds abnormally cheerful, loud enough to hear from the hall as he approaches. At this volume, Morooka would normally be yelling and raving at everyone to sit down and shut up, but instead of his familiar silhouette at the front of the room, there’s nothing but an empty seat. Yu flips his phone out to check his calendar, and his heart begins to sink slow and heavy.

“Where’s King Moron?” Yu asks as he slips into his desk behind Yosuke, tapping him on the shoulder.

Yosuke spins around with a grin, eyes bright and full of none of the fear Yu is swirling in. “Who cares? I hope he doesn’t show up at all today.”

Chie laughs, propping her textbook up to cover her desk from view. “Tell me about it.”

As the time ticks over to the top of the hour, it’s Kashiwagi that walks through the door, and the heaviness in Yu’s chest hits his stomach, clanging against his insides and stirring him with sickness. She saunters up to the podium like nothing is wrong, slowly gathering the attention of the class as she makes her way to the center of the room. Yosuke’s eyes are wide from where he can see them out of the corner of his own, caught on her low-cut shirt and permanent smirk.

“Mr. Morooka is out sick today,” she explains after tapping her pencil on the podium to gather the attention of the class, the chatter falling surprisingly quick into nothing but a dull murmur. His friends light up with glee at the news, looking to each other grinning behind their hands, but Yu just grips his textbook, pretending to busy himself with the pages. “I will be your substitute for the time being. I trust there’s no issue?”

“None at all,” Yosuke whispers under his breath, and Yu resists the urge to hit him lightly with the edge of his book.

As the lesson begins, Yukiko asks what Yu has been thinking, whispering to the others, “Has he ever taken a sick day?”

Chie shakes her head. “Don’t think so,” she dismisses. “But hey, he’s allegedly still human.”

Their lack of concern feels incongruent to Yu’s own emotional state in a way he can’t reconcile, so he just adjusts in his seat. “I think we should still check the other world.”

Yosuke swivels back to look at him like he’s grown two heads, but Yu just blinks back at him until Yosuke cocks an eyebrow and shrugs. “For real? She just said he’s sick.”

Yu crosses his legs under the desk. “We can never be too careful.”

Rumors spread quickly about the teacher with the most meticulous attendance record in the history of the school. Kidnapping is the word on everyone’s lips then, whispered through the halls of the school and the aisles at Junes, but Yu has eyes only for a certain Mitsuo Kubo, whom he hasn’t been able to find around town since Rise first appeared. The team wastes no time disappearing into the TV that very same afternoon, but upon their arrival, Teddie just shakes his head and looks at the ground.

“No one’s in here right now,” he confirms, doing an approximation of a shrug. “I’d bear able to know.”

“It’s King Moron,” Yosuke assures, clapping a hand on Yu’s shoulder as if he can sense his tension. “He’s probably just sick. If he’s not here, and he’s not on the Midnight Channel, there’s nothing to worry about, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Yu lies, uneasy. The idea it might already be too late doesn’t escape him.

It’s not like he can turn back.

As soon as the town can process its latest rumor, Rise disappears, and another wrangles Inaba in its grasp. Her appearance on the Midnight Channel becomes an overnight sensation, the town wrapped up in the narrative of her vanishing and the scandal of her high-definition channel debut. Yosuke calls him immediately afterwards in some stuttering, fanboy-ish stupor while Adachi simply texts him an ellipsis with no further comment, with the rest of the team somewhere between the two extremes, but there’s universal agreement that she’s in the TV, and it’s time to make their move.

The next day in class, Yosuke stops him on their way to lunch and asks, “What about Adachi?”

Yu slows his step, letting the others get a bit further ahead. “What about him?”

“Is it,” Yosuke says, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “You know, safe? For him?”

Yu hums, looking down at his feet briefly, ascending the stairs to the roof. “I think we need him,” he decides after some thought. “At least until we know what we’re getting into. He’s always been fine everywhere else, right?”

Yosuke nods, stepping past Yu to bound up the stairs and catch the rest of the group. “Well, you know him best.”

Still, Yu texts him under the bench over lunch just to confirm, and the reply comes almost immediately that he’ll be there. Yu slides his phone back in his pocket, hot to the touch under the summer heat.

In between the school trip and their schedules, he hasn’t seen him since that day in Yomi, at least not in person. He doesn’t know what he expects when they walk into the Junes lobby, but Adachi looks the same as he always does, though he bears darker-than-usual circles under his eyes from what Yu is sure must be long nights at the station. He greets them with a lazy wave, and Yu is almost too busy sizing him up to remember to return it.

“An idol, eh?” Adachi says as they make their way to the electronics section, hands in his pockets as he whistles once, low. “Whoever this is must be upping the ante.”

The answer to that hasn’t been the point yet. It’s not Adachi, he’s almost certain of it, and it’s enough to try and get his arms around that fact. But the absence of his involvement means Yu doesn’t know the answer, not definitively. It strikes him hard in the center of Adachi’s flippant words, and he struggles to keep his pace even. All they can do for now is save Rise.

Inside the TV, Teddie has little issue finding the source of the intrusion this time, leading them right up to the edge of Marukyu Striptease. The thumping, rhythmic bass is audible even from outside as Yu arranges everyone to his liking, watching Adachi as he does. There’s nothing about him that appears amiss—his eyes steady and face clear, if a bit strained where he’s trying to hold his false smile in place for the others—but Yu instructs him to keep close regardless as they enter the vortex into the swirling purple and pink halls of the dungeon.

“What a sweet area,” Yosuke laughs as they fight their way through the first floor, scantily clad posters lining the walls. He’s greeted with silence in return, Yu too busy peering around the corner to watch for Shadows and none of the others seeming to agree with his assessment, and he just offers another awkward laugh, scratching his head. “Better than most?”

Eventually, Adachi must take pity on him, clicking his tongue and offering a hollow, “Yeah. Sweet.”

Not even Yosuke seems particularly convinced by that, turning a bit red before heading down the hallway towards another Shadow, pushing Yu to catch up.

As they defeat Shadow after Shadow, Adachi remains the same, looking around at the walls and the floor instead of talking or participating much in the leisurely conversation the others share, but that isn’t too unusual. Still, Yu isn’t eager to spend too much time in here for the initial walkthrough, not when it looks as if holding a pleasant expression is unnatural and unwieldy and he keeps pulling at his collar like the temperature’s rising. He calls it a day after clearing just the ground floor, and once they’re out of the TV, Adachi is hasty to leave, a missed call from Dojima calling him back to the station for another late night.

It must be the heat, or something about the prolific nature of this case, because it’s around this time when everyone always starts to get restless. They meet the very next day at Junes after school—sans Adachi, the demands on the station as of late have whittled away his already limited free time to almost nothing—with a somber air about them, and Yu doesn’t have to try too hard to match it.

“So,” Yosuke begins, folding his hands on the table and exhaling. “We still have no idea who this is.”

The obvious answer, the only one Yu can really rely on, isn’t one that would make any sense for him to know, even as Namatame’s face, deranged by Kunino-Sagiri, flickers in the back of his mind. Its surety even then is in question, considering his supposed alibi, and Yu, for the first time in a long time, feels just as out of his depth as the rest of them. “We don’t.”

“I really don’t remember anything out of the ordinary,” Yukiko laments, and even though she’s told her story countless times, everything they’ve combed through paints the same picture as everyone else’s, and it’s not a very complete one.

Chie taps her fingers on the table firmly, humming as she slumps her chin into her other hand. “There has to be someone who could sneak around all those places.”

Kanji crosses his arms, furrowing his brows in thought. “There was that creepy kid taking pictures of Rise. He seemed like a real pro at stalking.”

“True,” Yosuke says, drawing out the word. “But there’s no evidence of a motive for anyone but Risette.”

Yukiko considers this, looking between each face at the table before she speaks. “It could be a student, maybe? Someone who would know all of us, and maybe they know Yamano as well?”

“Maybe,” Kanji mumbles with a dissatisfied huff, rubbing at his nose. “Damn it, none of these options make any sense!”

Yu feels a headache coming on, putting a hand to his temples and making a circle just above his eye with his thumb. “I know what you mean.”

“Maybe Rise will know something,” Yosuke offers, crossing his legs and leaning forward to look at the rest of them with a hopeful half-smile.

Yu gives one back, even though he knows better.

Regardless of Adachi’s schedule, there’s no excuse for Adachi not to be in the loop, so after the meeting, Yu swings by the station on his way home. It’s late enough that only the detectives are still milling about, but Yu texts him a warning that he’ll be on his way, so Adachi’s in the lobby to scoop him up and take him to the interrogation room before Dojima can spot them. Adachi locks the door behind them before collapsing into one of the chairs, laying his head down on the table.

“I’m beat,” he moans, splaying his hands out over the table before peeling back up with a sigh, running a hand down his face. “Dojima’s been running me ragged ever since that Rise girl came into town, never mind her disappearance.”

Yu gives him a sympathetic nod. “I believe it.”

Reaching into his bag, Yu procures two rice balls from his lunch bag wrapped up in cellophane and hands them across the table. Adachi eyes them as if they might catch flame for a second before hunger seems to win out and he snatches them out of Yu’s palm, slowly unwrapping the plastic with the tips of his fingers as he peers across the table at Yu, too tired to properly look irritated at the fussing.

Yu catches him up to speed as he eats, chewing thoughtfully as Yu speaks and offering a hum here or there when necessary. It’s only after he’s finished the first onigiri that he responds, saying, “You really don’t have any ideas?”

“Well,” Yu hedges, before figuring that if anyone has thought the case out this far ahead, it would be Adachi. “I keep circling back to Namatame.”

“Really?” Adachi asks as he picks up the second rice ball, hesitating en-route to bring it to his lips. He slumps forward on his elbow, leaning in close over the table and lowering his voice despite how thick the walls are. “We do too.”

Yu zips up his bag again and puts it underneath the chair, scooting it forward until his chest is pressed flush up against the table. “I thought you said he had an alibi?”

Adachi stuffs another bite of rice in his mouth, flickering his eyes about the room to scan for invisible listening ears. “He does,” he shrugs. “But it’s not a great one. Honestly, there’s only weak circumstantial evidence either way, but the Yamano case is the closest thing we have to a lead.”

It’s a bad sign when the only lead is the case that perhaps makes the least sense of them all, but in Inaba, that’s nothing new. Yu nods.

Adachi scoots his chair forward until their faces are close enough that Yu can hear him whisper in his ear. “He says he wasn’t in town yet, but there’s nothing technically proving that either way, except when he arrived on security cameras after her disappearance.”

He wonders what Namatame looks like now, if he’s tense in the same way Adachi is tense, if he’s got an edge to his eyes and a hard, foreign stilt to his words that he’s become accustomed to associating with the Sagiri, or if he’s normal, in the brief, illusory period of time there’s a normal for Yu to draw from.

“And there’s a lot about that night that security cameras apparently didn’t capture,” Yu muses, feeling conspiratorial over how quietly he can talk and still be heard when they’re this close. Both of their heads are hung low, looking up at each other only briefly as he talks but meeting each other’s eyes when they do. “I don’t know what to think.”

There’s no way to find out but to see first-hand, and Yu makes a note to order a package next time he has the chance, delivered express.

“Neither do we,” Adachi sighs, and with that, the brief spell that came over him breaks when he leans back and stretches his arms in another yawn. Yu shivers a little in the harsh air conditioning of the room as he straightens back. “But we don’t have much right now, is the point. It’s boring as hell, really. I wish I were with you guys.”

Yu cocks his head to the side, appraising the subtle shift in Adachi’s expression as he finishes the last of his rice ball he’d set off to the side. “Really?”

Adachi balls up the last of the cellophane, tosses it to the bin across the room, and misses just wide of the rim. He doesn’t bother to get up and correct it. “Really,” he insists, as if repeating it somewhat irritates him. “That place seems gigantic. I’m worried I’m gonna fall behind.”

Something in Yu’s chest sinks, just a hint of unease like a half-remembered bad dream. “I don’t think that’ll happen.”

He knows what will come out of Adachi’s mouth before he says it. “I think we should go to Yomi.”

Yu inhales sharply through his nose, tensing his knuckles around each other from where his hands are clasped over the table. His tongue feels thick and heavy, like there’s cotton in his throat, and there’s an objection just on the tip of it—a formless ‘no’ dancing in the crystalline light of the cave—but when he opens his mouth to speak it, nothing but air comes out. Something burns on the side of his face until he can no longer ignore it and he slides to meet Adachi’s eyes, and although nothing in the color or the shape alarms him, he still doesn’t quite know if he’s always meant to see the signs. Instead, against all will, he says, “Are you sure?”

“Of course I am,” Adachi scoffs, dismissing Yu with a flick of his wrist before crossing his arms over his chest. “I just had a migraine last time, kid. You caught me in a bad mood.”

It’s been a while since he’s used the diminutive, and Yu wasn’t prepared for how much it would sting to hear again. He can’t help the frown that falls across his face, but still, his lips say, “Promise you’ll be careful.”

Adachi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue, staring across at Yu with a raised brow. Still, his face cracks into a smile when he says, “You’re such a mother hen sometimes.”

“Just making sure,” Yu holds up a hand before lowering it again, shaking his head. “We’ll go if you want to.”

Adachi smiles wider, but it’s not a warm thing.

That’s how Yu finds himself staring down the TV in his room, Adachi at his side. He feels the gravity of the flickering static of his TV pulling him in until his fingers sink into the surface and Adachi makes an impatient noise, urging him forward. When he rolls out onto the forest floor of Yomi, Adachi nearly collides with him while Yu is caught up in a glowing blue light.

“Watch where you’re going,” Adachi chides, crawling to his feet with a groan and rubbing where his knee slammed into the ground to avoid smashing down into Yu’s ribcage instead. “What are you looking at?”

The Velvet Room door is unmistakable and unchanging—the difference is that it’s never materialized on this side. He didn’t know it could. “Nothing,” he lies, badly. He scrambles to stand, pushing into the dirt as he continues to peer at the door, wondering if it will disappear if he blinks. It doesn’t. “Give me one second. Sorry.”

Time passes differently in the Velvet Room—it’ll just look like a blink to Adachi—but he still feels watched even as he slips in through the open sliver of shimmering darkness and into the familiar limousine, eyes on the back of his head until the very moment it closes behind him.

“Ah, we’ve found you,” Igor greets him with a curl of his fingers, ever-present grin beaming in the dim light of the room. Marie and Margaret sit on either side, and while Margaret is as poised and impassive as ever, Marie looks exhausted, haggard with dark circles under her eyes as she slumps against the seat cushions. “It took a fair amount of energy to follow you here, but this station is now up and operating.”

Yu looks between the three of them, at Marie struggling to keep her eyes open, and the swirling ribbons of time outside the window. “What do you mean?”

“We felt it necessary to insert our presence into this space,” Igor explains, tapping his fingers in that slow, easy rhythm on the table. “Lest you find yourself alone in a hostile area without a beacon, as you often do here.”

“There are certain protections over this area,” Margaret adds, folding her book over her first finger as she turns to Yu. “If it weren’t for Marie, we wouldn’t have been able to.”

Marie stirs a bit at the sound of her name, straightening up and looking at Yu for the first time. She gives a little wave before just shrugging and going back to sinking into the cushion, arms crossed over her chest. “I had to lend some of whatever power I have over this place to them,” she sighs, rubbing at her temples. “You’re damn lucky, stupid. It was a pain in the ass.”

Igor steeples his fingers and peers over top of them at Yu. “There is reason to believe you are in danger at all times here.”

“I know that,” Yu swallows, because he does. “I appreciate the support.”

“And still, you venture onwards?” Igor asks, his wide, unblinking eyes piercing into Yu’s chest. Yu flinches a bit under the heat of it, but forces himself to remain impassive, standing firm in the center of the car. “I suppose that is why we must keep an extra eye on you, trickster.”

Yu feels the corners of his lips twitch up as the limousine begins to dissolve and shift into swirling tendrils of smoke and light around him, and in another blink, he finds himself again on the grass of Yomi’s outskirts, staring blankly at a grove of trees.

The first thing he notices is that it’s raining.

He turns back towards Adachi and asks, before he can think better of it, “When did this start?”

Adachi frowns up at the fat, wet raindrops falling in quick succession from the sky. “What do you mean? Just now.”

“Oh,” Yu shrugs his shoulders back, reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Right.”

“You’re out of it, kid,” Adachi mumbles, gun already swinging from his index finger as he appraises Yu with a clinical sort of concern. “You sure you’re good?”

Yu just makes his way into the mouth of the forest, leading Adachi onto the path and past the first thicket of trees. He walks slowly on purpose, or at least slower than he usually takes the first few stages, letting Adachi stay close enough for Yu to monitor from a short distance.

The first few groups of Shadows inspire no changes to his features. His eyes aren’t clear, not entirely, but Yu can’t remember the last time they were in here, if they ever have been. There’s a certain cloudiness to them, like he’s peering through a looking glass, and when he speaks, it’s a bit barbed, but that’s nothing new, either. They breeze through the first few layers of the forest without much issue, the both of them combined now strong enough that Yu no longer has to watch his back or worry much about his stamina, winding their way through the forest path. The only thing truly amiss is the rain, continuing to pour down and soak Yu to his bones, but it’s never unpleasant or chilly, something in the air keeping Yu’s skin breathable and light despite the onslaught from above. The skies aren’t any darker, either, the rain seeming to appear out of the same clouds that draw the mist that surrounds them as always.

Still, Adachi is vicious. He’s always a bit rough with the Shadows, especially in Yomi—the act seems to bring him some sort of glee when he gets a good hit in anywhere, but he’s always on the brutal edge in this place, hard with the blunt end of his gun. It keeps Yu’s eyes on him as they move through the woods, and as they approach the waterfall, Yu lets the question on the tip of his tongue slip out.

“Are you doing alright?” The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop it, and he knows Adachi will round on him before he does, spinning on his heel with a closed-up expression to face Yu from where he’d pulled ahead again.

“Is there something on my face?” Adachi demands, both hands on his hips as he uses a slight elevation in the forest floor to loom just a bit over Yu’s head for once, rather than the other way around. “Because you keep looking at me like there is.”

Yu slips into a frown, but he shakes his head, forcing himself to look up at the sky until the rain in his eyes is too much. He wipes them off with the back of his wrist, replying, “No. I’m just making sure.”

“Well, it’s a little overkill.” Adachi derisively mimes a small amount with his thumb and forefinger, and when Yu catches his eyes behind his hand, there’s something foreign reflected in their glassy surface, a faint yellow glow. “I’m doing great, but if I don’t keep at it, I’ll fall behind. We can’t have that, now can we?”

Yu wants to tell him he’s easily the most powerful of them all aside from himself, but something in the dark pinch of Adachi’s face tells him it won’t go over well, and they’re so close to the waterfall. It would be a lie to say there’s not a part of Yu that’s curious, even with the uncomfortable swirling sensation in his gut at the thought of the cave. “Alright.”

It’s not enough to be convinced, but it’s enough to let Adachi continue to lead them down the path towards the waterfall, the rush of the water beginning to fill their ears even over the sound of the rain across the treetops. The path towards it is surprisingly free of Shadows, and Yu takes the time to continue to sneak glances at Adachi, watching the tense line of his shoulders grow with each passing second of silence, mounting the tightness of his own. Each step feels like a mile, and as they round the corner up to where the path forks off, they see an exceptionally large thicket of Shadows at the mouth of where Yu remembers the cave entrance to be, all at a much higher level of power than Adachi is accustomed to and blocking their way. Up close, the water roars above the pounding of Yu’s chest as he reaches to pull Adachi back, heedless of how he jerks away and slaps his hand even as he complies.

“We have to go in,” he argues, echoing a small, but pressing part of Yu’s inner consciousness that desperately feels the same. “Come on.”

The larger, more vocal part of Yu that’s ringing alarm bells is in no way quieted by the way Adachi pulls out his gun and inches towards the Shadows, seemingly undaunted by their strength. Reluctantly, Yu pulls out in front to lead them, but the second the Shadows covering the mouth of the cave catch wind of their presence, Adachi leaps into action, firing out a rare, real round straight into the heart of their gathering and sending them squealing and screeching in their direction.

Adachi’s fighting style favors blunt force over his prowess with his actual aim—the side of the gun works just as well for what they’re doing with it than the real thing—but with this group of Shadows, or perhaps with just the state Adachi is in, he’s using the gun as intended, the mysticism of this place seeming to in no way dampen the actual power of the instrument as Shadows are sent wailing in pain at the collision of bullets. It’s brutal in a new way, and Yu finds himself eager to hurry and kill the ones he can on his own; between the two of them, they make quick work of it, Adachi not even reacting to the increased jump in difficulty, as if it’s as easy for him as it is for Yu. When the Shadows are cleared, Adachi wipes at his lips with the back of his sleeve and says nothing, stepping over their dissolving bodies to enter the cave.

Inside, the crystals shimmer off the walls and into Yu’s irises, blinding and bright even as the darkness swallows up the quickly disintegrating light from outside. It’s quiet, the background noise of the forest drifting away into the rhythmic drip of water from the ceiling and the ragged sounds of their breath, labored from the fight and struggling for increasingly rare oxygen. Before, when they had everyone, the ambient chatter and rustling made it tolerable, but the silence is suffocating here, each step they take echoing endlessly through the chamber. Yu somehow finds himself following Adachi’s back again, so he speeds up to catch his side, but all that does is make Adachi walk faster, brisker as they make their way through the winding, narrow passageway.

“Where are we going?” Yu asks, because Adachi seems to know, steps long and confident with his hands in his pockets and his jaw shut tight.

“Inside,” Adachi replies bluntly. He doesn’t look Yu’s way at all, but he can catch the corners of his eyes, and he can see the crystals reflected in them, dancing in greens and blues and yellows across the planes of his narrow, pale face. “We don’t know where this leads, do we?”

“I guess not,” Yu replies, but with every step they take into the bulk of the cave, the light from outside gets smaller and smaller at their backs. Yu feels the smallness of the chamber closing in on him, dank and damp and glowing fluorescent in the dark, and Adachi’s presence is only adding to the uneasy grip of his chest, even as he lingers and waits for Yu, to his surprise. “How far back does it go?”

“Why do you think I know?” Adachi snaps, and it rings out louder than Yu anticipated for, harsh and loud, bouncing off the walls. He stops in his tracks to stare Yu down, and his eyes are black, lifelessly devoid of light and flat underneath the crystals’ color. Yu stops in his tracks for a moment, waiting for them to turn back even as Adachi continues to skulk on. “That’s why we’re doing this, kid.”

Yu walks forward to catch his stride, but he finds some of Adachi’s irritation settling under his own skin, radiating off of him so thick it feels impossible not to absorb some of it. “I wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

Adachi turns on him again, harsher and faster than before, and Yu doesn’t have a chance at being quick enough to stop him before Adachi has a hand around his wrist, gripping with an inhuman strength Yu knows he doesn’t possess. Yu tries to yank himself away, but Adachi’s a stone statue, unmoving no matter how hard Yu tugs. Behind him, a black fog begins to seep out of the depths of the cave, rolling in creeping waves across the floor and out from the ceiling, growing like a cloak around Adachi’s shoulders. Yu looks up at him, and for once, Adachi meets his gaze, but the effect is so chilling he immediately regrets it, pinned like a butterfly underneath Adachi’s cold, cruel, stolen eyes.

“I’ll call you whatever the fuck I want,” he hisses, and only then does he let go of Yu, the force of the push behind it sending Yu stumbling into the cave wall, back colliding with one of the jutting crystals with an audible crack. He winces, but pulls himself up to his full height, afraid of what a show of weakness might bring. Adachi glares down at him—or rather, the multi-colored, blank eyes of Ameno-Sagiri glare down at him, and Yu’s blood chills. “Let’s keep moving.”

This was a terrible idea. “I think we should leave.”

“And I think I didn’t ask you,” Adachi needles as he turns towards the hull of the cave, straightening his tie and glancing back just briefly with narrowed eyes. “So come on.”

Yu’s legs burn with the effort, lungs struggling for air inside the cavern, but he pushes himself off the wall with as much force as he has to catch Adachi in one smooth motion, bringing a hand down on his shoulder and using the momentum to spin him around into the wall, gripped with a tinge of regret at how hard he slams into the cave. Yu drops his hands immediately while Adachi is still stunned, eyes wide, and says, hastily, “I really don’t think you’re safe here.”

“Stop getting in my way,” Adachi booms, but it’s not Adachi at all. It’s layered, distorted with a deep, crackling undercurrent, the otherworldly quality running a chill up Yu’s spine. The fog is thicker now, flowing out from the darkness of the cave in deep tendrils, and Yu steps back, but he doesn’t get far.

As fast as Yu caught him, Adachi is faster. The second Yu moves away from his body, Adachi winds a hand back and hits him across the face with an open palm, and Yu feels the sharp pain and a lick of blood across his face even before he’s laid out on the cave floor, winded from the inhuman force of Adachi’s strike.

He scrambles up onto his hands, and it’s not a second too soon, because as soon as he looks up, Adachi is lunging for him again, but this time, Yu is prepared. In the split second it takes Adachi to surge off the wall, he springs into action, catching Adachi’s waist with his knee and shoving, pushing him off-balance until it’s Adachi’s back that’s hitting the cave floor and Yu is crawling on top.

He grabs at his sword before Adachi can react, chest heaving, and braces himself on it with the point just shy of Adachi’s face in the dirt, propping himself up with the blade while he straddles him. Adachi kicks and struggles in vain to break free, his eyes flickering like static on a television flipping through broken channels and his teeth bared. A drop of blood falls from Yu’s cheek onto Adachi’s, and the man below him curls his lips.

“Get off me,” he hisses with a distant but still-clear echo. Yu just shakes his head, leaning down closer to cover Adachi’s entire body with his own, caging him in despite the man’s thrashing.

“Adachi,” Yu says, peering down helplessly at his swirling, torn-up face. “Adachi, please listen to me. I know you’re in there.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Adachi snarls, but it’s losing its bite and undertone. There’s an edge of genuine confusion underneath the cruelty that’s more him than anything, and Yu wants to reach in and pull it out with his fingertips. He settles for pushing Adachi’s sweaty bangs out of his face, running a hand down the side of his cheek and adjusting his knee to pin down Adachi’s arm when it reaches up to stop him. He does it again, feeling the cold sweat on his face, the soft, human flesh of his skin.

“Come back,” Yu pleads, even as Adachi scratches and claws at the side of Yu’s waist. He leans in closer, until he can see Adachi’s eyes just inches away, and he puts a hand to Adachi’s chin, like tilting pure stone. Still, he manages to bend it so Adachi physically can’t look anywhere else but Yu. There’s a far-away look across his face, but at least it’s starting to look more like his own. “I know it’s easy to give into, but you have to fight it.” He steels his voice. “Are you going to let something else control you?”

After minutes of pushing against it, Adachi manages to wedge his arm out from underneath Yu’s knee and clambers for his face again, attempting to jolt up into Yu’s chest, but Yu sees it coming. It’s nothing like the fast, robotic motions that caught Yu off-guard earlier, and he feels some of the air return to his lungs. He catches Adachi’s wrist mid-air and pins it to the ground with his hand, fingers splayed out across Adachi’s palm as he lowers it to the dirt, firm but easy.

It’s like something leaves his body, then, his taught, rigid muscles suddenly going limp underneath Yu as Adachi gives one last push against him before collapsing, eyes shut tight. His face folds up like he’s in pain, and he flexes his fingers, chest heaving as he hisses in and out through his nose, body curling up slightly between Yu’s limbs. It takes several seconds, but finally, he opens his eyes, and Yu barely gets a chance to take stock of them—slightly shiny, but full of deep, dimensional color—before they rest on Yu’s face and widen underneath lowering brows, face splitting into an emotion Yu can’t quite name.

“What happened to your face?”

Slowly, Yu raises one hand to his own cheek and the wound he almost forgot was there. The cuts are superficial, but they’ll be sure to leave a mark, still bleeding slightly at the touch. He looks away from Adachi for the first time in what feels like hours, to the dirt just to the side of his face. “We ran into a Shadow.”

Adachi crawls up onto his forearms underneath him, and Yu lets him, his legs still partially caged by Yu’s. He uses the leverage to study Yu’s face closer, batting Yu’s hand away with a gentle sort of tug in order to peer at the lines across it before pulling back slightly to say, “You’re a shit liar, Yu.”

Yu exhales and forces himself to look at him head-on again, and there’s nothing in Adachi’s expression that lets him think he’ll escape this. With a sigh, he lowers back onto his heels and lets Adachi free, pulling his sword up out of the dirt and scooting back so Adachi can sit upright. They face each other on the cave floor, Yu with his hands in his lap and Adachi kneeling so he can prod at Yu’s cheek, pushing back some of his hair behind his ear. In doing so, Yu catches the blood underneath Adachi’s nails at the same time he seems to, Adachi’s eyes going wide as he stumbles back and glances between his hand and Yu’s cheek until he looks as if he might be sick.

“Tell me the truth,” Adachi snaps, cradling his own wrist. “Now.”

Yu tries to hide the way his hands shake between his thighs, but he’s sure it doesn’t work. “You… weren’t yourself.”

This seems to horrify him even further, and he withdraws as far as he can into the cave wall before he hits a crystal, illuminating his silhouette and darkening his face, but Yu’s still close enough that he can see each feature and line, making up the distance by inching a bit closer.

“What did I do?” he presses again, staring at the side of Yu’s face. He tries to turn the other way, but Adachi’s eyes just follow him. Quieter, he says, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Yu assures, pressing a hand to his cheek in an attempt to heal it. Nothing comes, but it’s not all that surprising. It wasn’t a wound given through a supernatural vector, even if it was a supernatural force. “You were… Something else had control of you, I think. I saw that, and I let us go in too far anyway. It’s my own fault.”

“I don’t remember how we got here,” Adachi laughs, in a breathy, hollow way that indicates there’s no humor to be found in the least. “And I sure as shit don’t remember that.”

“Exactly,” Yu smiles, equally humorless and empty. Adachi just winces and looks away, resting his head on the cave wall. “So you didn’t do anything.”

Even quieter still, Adachi asks, each word enuniciated, “What the fuck is going on with me, Yu?”

Yu opens his mouth, then closes it again, unsure how safe it is to continue to lie with no way to approach the truth, but Adachi just scoffs, rolling his eyes as he tries to push himself to his feet.

“Let me guess, you don’t know,” Adachi interjects as he braces himself on his knees with one hand and the cave wall with the other, body shaking. “Why would you know? You’re just trying to figure it out too, and I…”

Adachi’s eyes flicker to Yu’s face again from where he’d been taken to stubbornly staring at the floor as he tries to crawl to his feet, but he just shakes his head and spits out what looks like blood onto the dirt, and Yu takes a step closer. Adachi holds a hand up, firm, and Yu stops in his tracks, but when Adachi stumbles hard on his first step off the cave wall, Yu’s forced to loop an arm under his shoulder to keep him up, holding tight despite his sound of protest.

“I can walk on my own,” he argues, pushing weakly at Yu’s side with his elbow. His face is pale, even in the glow of the cave, clear eyes sunken in pools of dark purple bruises underneath. He’s limp and heavy in Yu’s arm, using him to support most of his slight body. Yu just shakes his head as Adachi spits out another small puddle of blood, hacking into a cough that wracks him. “Let go.”

“Just until we get to the entrance,” Yu says, but it’s a lie.

He has no intention of letting go.

When Adachi drives back home for the night, after convincing Yu that’s something he can do competently even with his entire body wrecked to high hell, he doesn’t manage to do so alone.

“At least let me warm you up something at home,” Yu begs, still unconvinced he’ll be able to make it home and to bed in one piece. Whatever Ameno-Sagiri took from him in order to possess him for that long and that heavily, it’s left him depleted, shambling like a corpse as he stumbles down the stairs, desperate to show Yu can he can do it himself. He nearly falls down the last step, which prompts Yu to decide he’s at least seeing him to bed, hell or high water. As usual, it’s the promise of food that breaks him, and Adachi sighs, but opens his car door for him anyway when Yu follows him outside.

Adachi’s apartment is as it always is, sparse and poorly-kept, but Yu finds that he missed it dearly anyway as soon as he steps inside, a hand hovering over the small of Adachi’s back as he does, just in case. He’s a bit more stable on his feet now, though, and he makes it in without issue, collapsing onto the bed with his shoes still on, feet dangling off the side as he throws an arm over his eyes, suit jacket splaying open around him.

“There’s some instant soba in the cabinet,” he mumbles. “It’s the only thing I’ll eat right now, so don’t bother with anything fancier.”

Yu turns on the kitchen light as he gets to work, angling himself to peer out into the main room as he does. Adachi’s arm remains over his eyes as he breathes in and out, making no move to take off any of his outer layers or get more comfortable. He stays like that, completely still, as Yu reaches to open the packet of instant noodles, until the thought of it becomes too depressing and he peers inside his fridge in search of something more palatable. His search turns up nothing fresh—it’s primarily beer with a few takeout containers of dubious origin date—and he sighs, turning his sights towards the cabinets. He manages to find some noodles he can make fresh, or fresher, and some easy-cooking flavor packets, which at least look to be of better quality than the instant noodle he buys. He fires up the stove and rations out the noodles, rifling around for his pots and pans.

“What’s taking so long?” Adachi demands from the other room, and when Yu looks back, he’s peering around the wall at Yu’s back with a distinct frown. “I told you I wanted instant.”

“It’ll only take a bit,” Yu insists, quickly pouring the water in and setting it on the stove to boil. The silence that follows is tense, and Yu can feel his eyes on his back at every movement, waiting long, arduous minutes for the pot to boil. It’s the quick-cooking kind, Yu is unsurprised to find, so it’s not long on the stove, but each moment feels like an eternity, and he can feel Adachi’s impatience growing with each tick of the clock on his nightstand.

He returns a few minutes later with chopsticks and a disused cutting board for a tray, and Adachi groans as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes and finally reaching to loosen his tie.

“Sure,” he exhales, taking the tray and setting it on his lap. “Thanks, kid. Even though I didn’t ask for it. Have a good night.”

Yu frowns as he hovers near the bed, leaning up against the wall dividing the bedroom from the kitchen and crossing his arms. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine,” Adachi says behind his first bite of soba, slurping it up noisily as he stares up at Yu, unblinking. He toes off his shoes, not bothering to untie them, and Yu steps forward on reflex as the bowl tilts, prompting a narrowing of Adachi’s eyes. “Just tired. Go home.”

Adachi rights the tray on his lap, moving all the way to the far corner of the mattress where it’s shoved in between two walls, eating his noodles without another word. Yu just continues to stand there, hands at his sides clenching and unclenching as he tries again, “I’ll get you painkillers. You shouldn’t go to bed without them.”

Adachi sets the tray out on his makeshift nightstand beside him with a swift and decisive motion before pivoting harshly to Yu. “Can you stop fucking mothering me already?”

Yu winces, backing up into the wall. “That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“Well that’s what you do,” Adachi snaps, swinging his feet onto the floor and standing up to his full height despite a flinch of pain, his face red with a sudden anger that Yu’s never seen before, at least not with eyes this clearly his, no matter how long Yu stares at them expecting their center to go cold and black as he speaks. “That’s what you’ve done since the day we met. All you do is hover around me like I’m some incompetent child who cosntantly needs your saving, and I’m sick of it. I don’t need your help to survive. I’m fine. I was fucking fine before you came around, too.”

Yu takes a step back into the kitchen, his own face burning with an emotion he doesn’t want to name yet, creeping up his throat and catching his words. “Adachi…”

“Go home,” he repeats with an exhausted sort of half-snarl, sinking back onto his bed and grabbing for his soba again as he curls into the corner, his gaze stubbornly glued to the door.

This time, Yu listens.

He doesn’t hear from Adachi for a while after that.

The case is part of it, he’s sure, but their occasional texts have come to a standstill, and he hasn’t been able to find him at Junes nor the gas station for several weeks. Neither has he darkened the door of the Dojima household, even on the rare nights that Dojima himself manages to make it home for some semblance of a dinner hour. It’s as if Adachi has disappeared from his orbit completely, and as empty a space as he leaves behind in his wake, Yu doesn’t want to be the first to press. There’s a boundary he’s afraid he’s found and overstepped, and something tells him being the first to break the silence will only worsen his case. So he lives with it. It’s not like there’s a lack of things to fill it with.

After several days of absence, Morooka is officially reported missing, and the two active cases sweep the town up in a frenzy as Yu and the others continue to make their way through the dungeon. It’s rare for Adachi to come on the vast majority of their infiltrations into the other world anyway, but he usually drops in once or twice, and regardless of how many levels of Rise’s dungeon they climb, the radio silence only grows. Yu stalls them as much as he possibly can, crawling through it slowly bit by bit and day by day, but eventually, they run out of path, and then they run out of sunlight, and the rain begins to fall.

“I know Adachi’s busy,” Yosuke says as the rain covers the valley, pouring down its wrath upon the school windows. “But we’re running out of time.”

“I’ll get him,” Yu promises, even though he’s not quite sure how or if he’ll be able to hold true to that. “We’ll go tomorrow.”

Underneath his desk, he breathes in deep, opens up his phone, and texts Adachi a simple, Can we talk?

The reply comes a few hours later, long enough that Yu’s half-convinced he won’t reply at all. Sure. And then a few minutes later, Come over tonight.

Yu doesn’t know how to interpret that, so he doesn’t try, and tries to ignore the pounding in his chest as he slides his phone back into his pocket and makes his way to acting club.

He arrives late that night at Adachi’s apartment, still unsure if he’s really supposed to be there as he hits the doorbell and waits on the step, shifting from foot to foot. When Adachi answers the door, he looks somehow even more exhausted than he did the last time he saw him, dark circles under his eyes and an unhealthy pallor to his skin, but his lips twitch a little when he sees Yu at the door—not quite upwards, but at least a sign of something close to acceptance as he stands aside to let him in.

Yu lingers on the step a minute more as he says, “I want to say I’m sorry.”

Adachi says nothing at that, but his eyes widen a little as he leans on the door, listening.

“I can be overbearing,” Yu admits, hands at his sides gripping into his palms and releasing them over and over again as he speaks, forcing himself to look at Adachi rather than somewhere just over his shoulder. He inhales, and continues, trying to remember the words he’d rehearsed the entire walk here. “I know I’ve been too much, and I’ve overstepped your boundaries. It’s because I care, but I still need to care about what you want and what your actual needs are, not ones I project onto you. You were tired and wanted to be alone, and I wasn’t listening.”

Adachi just blinks at him, and by degrees, his face softens into a sort of familiar incredulity, and it warms Yu, just a little. “Jesus, Yu,” Adachi shakes his head, opening the door wider. “Get inside.”

Yu finally slinks past the doorframe and into his apartment, watching as Adachi closes the door behind him. He hovers over the doorknob, staring down at the ground as his body wracks with a sigh, his eyes closing as he shakes his head before they open again. “I’m sorry I snapped. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to be around anyone. I took it out on you, which is still shitty.”

Yu just lingers by the bed as he waits for Adachi to walk over to him. When he does, he takes a seat on his makeshift kotatsu that’s really just a large comforter underneath his coffee table and Yu follows him down, taking the seat across.

“I needed to hear it,” Yu says. “I don’t know if I would have gotten it any other way.”

Adachi just leans forward on his elbow, propping his chin up as he tilts his head at Yu, searching his face for something. It’s faded with time, but he knows there’s still a mark left atop his cheekbone, and it burns under his watch. “Yeah, well. We can both be sorry.”

“Yeah,” Yu says, feeling himself smile slightly despite himself. He looks up at Adachi under his bangs and finds him still studying his face, but there’s something a bit soft, a bit awkward, like he’s feeling Yu study him back and isn’t quite sure how to best display himself under the light. Yu feels his face heat up and he has to look away, clearing his throat as he says, “I also came here for business, too.”

“About Rise, yeah?” Adachi infers, voice low and quiet in the dull silence of his apartment, and Yu finds himself leaning closer across the table to hear. “I’ll be there.”

Yu doesn’t know why this surprises him. Maybe it shouldn’t at this point, but after all this time, it does. “You will?”

At that, Adachi just laughs, like there’s something funny Yu doesn’t quite get, and shakes his head. “I’ve planned on calling in sick for weeks.”

Yu smiles for real this time.

“Don’t worry,” Adachi says, leaning on his cheek as he glances up at Yu. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Text

“Actually,” Adachi says, staring at the blank Junes flat screen. “I think you’ll be fine without me on this one, yeah?”

Yosuke taps his foot on the tile floor. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not weaseling your way out of this.”

“I’m not weaseling my way out of anything,” Adachi objects, stepping away from the screen and holding his hands up, grimacing. “I just think, you know, you’ve gone this far without me, is it really necessary?”

“Duh it is,” Chie cuts in, walking up behind him to give him a push towards the screen. He stumbles forward a bit, catching himself on the edge of the frame. “We need the help.”

Adachi rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. Instead of crawling in, he turns to look at Yu, and that’s everyone else’s cue to do the same, apparently, with everyone turning to him as if it’s his final verdict to swing in either direction.

He keeps the corners of his focus on Adachi as he briefly addresses the rest of the group, “See you soon.”

At the prompt, Adachi steps to the side, and Yosuke climbs in first when the coast is clear, followed by the girls and Kanji. Yu lets them go. He expects the clearing of Adachi’s throat that comes next after the last ripples on the screen have disappeared.

He doesn’t quite expect the hand on his arm, long fingers curling in a light squeeze to get his attention, but he settles a bit at the touch, because it’s the first acknowledgement he’s gotten from him all afternoon. When Yu looks up, Adachi is still looking somewhere across his forehead, but after a second of Yu keeping his gaze on him, Adachi shifts his own down to find it. “Are you sure about this?”

Yu feels warmth spread out from Adachi’s fingertips despite the attempt at a chill in his voice. “Of course I am.”

“Are you crazy?” Adachi hisses, squeezing down on his arm again. It’s not enough force to even come close to hurting him, just a tightness. “Don’t you remember what I did to you?”

“I do,” Yu counters, shifting on his feet. Only then does Adachi look down to where he’s still holding onto Yu’s arm before dropping it. “That was in Yomi. You’ve never done anything like that anywhere else.”

Adachi leans up against the narrow frame of the TV without making a move yet to climb in. “I hadn’t exactly done anything like that in Yomi until that point, either.”

Any longer, and his friends will start to worry, so Yu puts a hand to the TV and lets his fingers sink in, turning to Adachi. “I trust you.”

“God, you’re stupid,” Adachi quips, looking over Yu’s head for any stray customers before sticking a knee into the surface and crawling up to Yu’s side. He grabs onto the top of the frame to brace himself to swing in. “But I guess that’s not my problem.”

Yu smiles, but he doubts Adachi sees it before they both disappear into the surface of the screen.

They make their way as a group back down to Marukyu Striptease, and the closer they get to the entrance, the less and less assured Adachi seems to look, but he’s not the only one. It’s an uncomfortable dungeon, and even though they make their way easily to the final floor, his team is a mixture of resolute and uneasy as Yu arranges everyone in preparation for the fight. There’s only so much they’ll be able to do initially, but it’s at least wise to go through the motions, and they’ll need it on the other side.

Inside, Rise is kneeling on the floor as her double leans against the pole at center stage, scantily clad and grinning its disconcerting Shadow smile from ear to ear at the sound of the door. Rise’s Shadow has always been one of the most interesting ones—not for its physical manifestation, but for its simple demands to be seen. As it twirls and monologues about the pains of celebrity life and the fakeness it demands, Yu flickers between it and the rest of the group, inevitably letting his focus fall on Adachi more often than not. His uncertainty from earlier remains, but along with the curl of his lips, there’s something critical and curious in his face, listening with rapt attention.

“Shadows are pretty honest, huh?” Adachi says under his breath, just loud enough for Yu to hear. He always stands nearest to him. That’s one thing that’s never changed, even with his increased comfort with the rest of them. “You get to say exactly what you think. Seems pretty easy to live that way.”

Yu’s stomach churns, but he just laughs it off, a huff of air. “At what cost?”

Adachi responds with a shake of his head. “No kidding.”

Yosuke, for his part, looks just about as confused and uncomfortable as ever, while the rest just look concerned for the real Rise, who at the end of her Shadow’s monologue, stands up and fights it just as vehemently as the rest of them had as copies and copies of Rise, all with different outfits and different attitudes despite their matching goading expressions, begin to surround the stage, all mocking and laughing at her as she denies the Shadow. By this point, most of them understand it’s pointless to argue. Acceptance has to come from Rise herself, and when it doesn’t come, her Shadow transforms and hangs from the pole in its technicolor, dazzling form, beckoning them forward.

It’s benign and normal at first, but sooner rather than later, their attacks start to fail. Yu can sense the panic beginning to rise up in the others, and even though he knows all they have to do is wait it out, some of it begins to seep into him as well as he watches Adachi’s hand clench and unclench over the grip of his gun, teeth gritted as his eyes circle wildly around the copies of Rise.

Teddie intervenes before long, and in the midst of his attack, which unfortunately leaves him pancake-like and disheveled from the force of knocking Rise’s Shadow back into its human form, he’s flung to the floor in a crumpled heap.

“Teddie!” Chie calls as they rush over to check on him as Teddie tries to peel himself up off the floor, pushing with his two-dimensional arms.

“I’m okay,” he mutters, and just as the real Rise begins to stir. It’s just her and the single Shadow on stage, and after making sure Teddie is at least still on his feet and himself for the moment being, they rush over to Rise, who’s rubbing her head as she rises up to sit.

“It’s okay, guys,” Rise assures, giving them a shaky smile over her shoulder, hands bunched into the bottom of her Marukyu apron. She turns to the Shadow in front of her. “I’ve decided there is no ‘real me’ after all.”

Adachi leans heavily on Yu’s shoulder with his forearm as he nearly loses his balance stepping forward. “What do you mean?”

“She’s me,” Rise admits as her Shadow raises up to kneel in front of her, the two Rises staring each other down. The Shadow’s face is blank and impassive as it listens. “But so is Risette, and so am I. They’re all a part of me, and none are more ‘real’ than any other. It’s all just me.”

Behind them, Teddie begins to stutter something incoherent. No one except Chie turns around, and Yu catches it out of the corner of his eye with a concerned frown. Rise’s Shadow rises to its feet, though, and pulls everyone’s attention towards the center of the room again as Rise crawls up to meet it.

No matter the timeline, Rise has always handled this the best. “You’re me,” she says, like it’s something she knew all along. “And I’m you.”

Her Persona appears without further fuss, and she accepts its glowing form into her heart with closed eyes and a smile, trusting as it becomes a part of her before the force knocks her back down to her knees, winded from the fusion. It’s Adachi and Yosuke that spring forward first, Yosuke steadying her with a hand on her arm as Adachi crouches down to her height and holds out a hand as well, careful not to actually touch her.

“You’re the police officer who came to the shop, yeah?” Rise turns to Adachi. Adachi nods, pulling back up to his full height but offering an arm to help her get up faster than Yosuke can, which she takes gracefully as she rises with only minimal shaking. When she’s standing on her own again, she says, “Thank you. I think I recognize the rest of you from around town.”

“We’ll be your classmates,” Chie explains, and she has a hand on her hip like she’s poised to say more, but whatever her explanation will be, it’s swallowed up by the continued sound of Teddie’s muttering, growing louder and louder behind them.

“There’s no real me?” Teddie stutters, still flattened and wobbling slightly on his nearly two-dimensional feet. “There’s no real me?”

It’s Rise that reaches out to steady Adachi now as a loud hiss of pain interrupts Teddie’s mumbled repetition, and Yu spins to see Adachi clutching at his head as he doubles over, sinking down over his knees as Rise puts an uneasy hand to his back. He shrugs it off, struggling to rise to his feet, as Rise shouts, “Stay back! I think there’s something in Teddie!”

The Sagiri—what can only be a Sagiri. Of course Adachi would react, of course Teddie’s never had a normal Shadow. Yu puts out his arms to hold the others as he backs up, giving the bear a wide berth as the Shadow begins to manifest behind his weakened form, a replica of his fuller self with piercing yellow eyes that looms unblinkingly over them.

“Of course there is no real you,” the Shadow, or rather, the burgeoning Sagiri within the Shadow booms. Teddie reels back to face it, as horrified by what he sees as the rest of them, judging by their faces as they take in something so clearly different “The truth is unattainable. It will always be shrouded in fog. You grasp and you search through an endless forest of uncertainty, convinced of your ‘truth’. Why? There is no ‘truth’. There is no guarantee that what you chase is even reality.”

Somehow, Yu feels like the Shadow’s eyes are looking right through him, even though it’s ostensibly Teddie it’s speaking to. The Shadow’s form undulates with the fog surrounding it, half-opaque in its cover. It’s like he can’t escape its gaze, no matter where he looks. The others begin to stir, readying themselves for the inevitable fight, but Yu finds himself still glued to the ground, listening to the Shadow drone. “You are empty, devoid of anything but a pathetic hope that will never be realized. This is the truth you are desperate to avoid.”

This, more than anything, is what triggers Teddie into arguing back with the Shadow, and before long, Adachi lets out another hiss of pain, and Yu finally spurs into action, running behind him to drag both Adachi and Rise off the platform just before the Shadow transforms into its gruesome true colors, its technicolor eyes bouncing around its empty, rotting skull.

Aside from the similar crackling undertone both Shadow Teddie and Ameno-Sagiri speak in, they have strikingly similar ideas on the nature of truth, on complacency and denial. The fog builds along their feet as it wafts out of Shadow Teddie’s distorted body in black droves, swirling up their legs and covering the tile below in dense clouds. There’s nothing to do but fight through it, and eventually, it falls, its charred body collapsing into the sinkhole of shimmering ooze from where it emerged and lowering deep into its depths, sucking the fog, for the time being, back in with it.

Despite barely breaking a sweat, Yu feels unusually exhausted by the time it’s truly gone, leaning on his sword as he pulls up to his full height to face the others. For the rest of them, even Adachi, it was a tougher fight than normal, panting and slow to get to their feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Adachi sends him a curious look, but for now, Yu just shakes his head.

By the time they all collect themselves, Teddie has peeled himself up off the floor, and with only a slight shake, he turns around to face his Shadow, which stands unnervingly silent and motionless, watching them with its haunting gaze. Still, Teddie seems undaunted, and the others echo that even he simply has a hidden side, it seems. Yu doesn’t have the heart—or the vocabulary—to correct them. He’s never been sure how much of it is a true Shadow of Teddie, and how much of it is… something else, or if there’s even a difference between the two.

“I’ve wondered a lot if there is no real me,” Teddie muses, upper body flapping as he folds over, turning back to the group briefly. Even flat, his eyes are wide and pure as ever. “But I’m here, and I have thoughts, and experiences… Those are real, right?”

Something in Yu jumps to the defense before anyone else can. “Of course they are.”

Teddie snaps his head up, wobbling a little like laminated paper with the force. “You really think so?”

Yosuke smiles at him, and already, Yu can see glimmers of the bond that they’ll have on the other side before they know it. “We know so,” he assures, with an easy wink. “We’ll help you figure out the rest.”

“Besides,” Adachi cuts in, spinning his gun on one finger as the other arm rolls into a shrug. “It doesn’t really matter if there’s a ‘real you’ or whatever, like the little lady said. It’s all subjective.”

Teddie frowns, but sniffs and rubs at his face like the sentiment affects him anyway. “I still don’t know what all these big words mean.”

Rise taps at her cheek, giving Adachi a thoughtful glance. “I think he means the ‘real you’ is already you, Teddie.”

Adachi blinks, scratching at his head, but he doesn’t look entirely displeased. Just a little confused. Yu has to fight a smile of his own. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it, sure.”

“Either way,” Chie takes over, after several moments of wordless communication between her and Yukiko. “We’ve got your back.”

Teddie beams, and after a minute of obligatory crying at the prospect of human kindness where Yosuke is unusually patient at letting him get bear-snot and dirt on his shoulder, he rubs at his snout at turns back to the Shadow, still silently staring out at them and glowing in a faint blue aura.

“I don’t know anything about the truth or whatever,” Teddie shakes his head, waving his arms a little to keep his balance. Still, he stands firm. “But I know I’m here!”

His Persona was already beginning to manifest before he spoke, but now it breaks free from the shell of his Shadow like the crack of an egg, bursting forth in a burst of blue sparks. The exhaustion seems to hit both Rise and Teddie tenfold then, Teddie curling in on himself and Rise leaning on Kanji as she struggles into her first step, and with two Personas manifested in one evening, Yu feels more than comfortable calling it a day.

Once they’ve put a good distance between themselves and the others, Yu takes Adachi aside, tugging gently on the end of his suit jacket to pull him out of his own head where he’d been drifting, staring at the scenery. He jumps a little, but doesn’t shake him off, stepping in closer instead.

“I don’t think that Shadow was normal,” Yu whispers, keeping his head forward to try to be clandestine. It’s not that he’s necessarily keeping it from the others, it’s just that… it’s a delicate subject, one he doesn’t quite know how to broach yet. Besides, he’s at least bringing it to the one it’s most relevant for.

Adachi snorts under his breath, indelicate. “You don’t say.”

“Stick with me,” Yu says, but bites the corners of his lips down. “I think it can control the fog. And whatever the fog does, it has something big to do with this.”

“Oh shit.” Adachi’s eyes go wide, and all traces of humor flies from his face, going a shade pale underneath the strange colored lights as they fly down the stairs of Marukyu Striptease. “You don’t say.”

Something in Adachi’s expression tells him not to push, so he slows his steps to let them fall in line with the others again as they make their way back to the center of the TV studio.

Teddie still hasn’t inflated by the time they leave, but there’s only so much they can do for him on that front. He lingers at the Junes platform before he balls his little fists and declares, “I’m gonna get stronger, so that I can back you guys up better! Next time you see me, I’ll be a beary different bear!”

Yukiko lays a gentle hand on his head, which makes him blush. “I’m sure you will,” she encourages.

“Yeah, Teddie,” Yosuke agrees. “You’re already stronger.” He casts an eye over the rest of them. “C’mon, let’s get Rise home.”

Rise elects to bring herself to the station again this time.

“I can walk,” she promises them, giving the rest of the group a soft smile. “Thank you guys, for everything.”

“Of course,” Yu says, after Adachi bumps his shoulder when he doesn’t speak in the immediate breath following her words. He bumps him back, gently. “We’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever you feel well. Don’t stress yourself.”

With the schedule of the rain, she won’t need more than a day or two to rest, just enough for the fog to clear, but he keeps that to himself.

Adachi drives Yu home again, because after they say goodnight to everyone else, it’s just easier to hitch a ride than part ways. The radio plays softly in the background of their companionable silence, the familiarity of an old routine, and Yu breathes into the warm summer night air wafting in through the open windows, thick and humid. He rests his head on the side, letting it roll over him, and out of the corner of his eye, Adachi has his own hand slung out the window, short hair ruffling in the slight breeze. He drops him off without incident, and Yu watches his car drive away and turn down the street before he fully makes his way into the house.

Sunlight comes fast, and the town is astir with her return; the news van is camped outside Marukyu Tofu, along with half of the population of Inaba, making it impossible for Yu to even get close. Luckily, Adachi is stationed there again in anticipation of the uproar, and Yu struggles to the front of the line to whisper in his ear and ask after Rise when Dojima isn’t looking. He manages to lean away just in time to avoid any sort of suspicion by the time Dojima has turned back to reprimand Adachi for something or other, and Yu watches from his safe vantage point as he slides into the shop. A while after, long enough for Yu to grow hot under the summer sun even in the shade of a nearby tree, Adachi reemerges again, and Yu fights back through the crowd to meet him, leaning on the police barricade to hear him over the noise.

“She’s fine,” Adachi says, sliding his eyes around for Dojima’s watchful gaze before leaning in closer. “She said she’ll meet you guys tomorrow, after this dies down.”

Yu thanks him with a quick nod. “See you tomorrow too, then.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, turning to bat another onlooker back from the police line. “I’ll see if I can get it off.”

It ends up taking another day after that for the crowds to clear completely, but by July 10th, news of Rise’s reappearance has been overshadowed once again by the daily happenings of Inaba. Kanami’s star is on the rise high enough to completely devour any news of Rise now that everyone has been adequately informed of her whereabouts. It’s a quick turnaround, but they all have been, and it at least allows even Adachi to sneak out of work early to meet up with them at Junes. Rise is able to slide in without a fuss, sandwiched in between the others—just another faceless citizen of Inaba now that her case has been, in their eyes, wrapped up.

“Sorry it took so long,” Rise says once they’re all gathered, two plates of beef and a round of soft drinks all courtesy of her on the table. “I could barely leave my house for two days.”

“Sucks about the media circus,” Adachi rolls his eyes and takes a piece of beef between his teeth, chewing indelicately. “We tried our best.”

Rise shakes her head, pigtails bouncing with the motion. “No, it’s fine,” she says, reaching for her drink and taking a small sip. “Miss Yamano still had a few questions for me this morning, but otherwise, she promised she’d leave me alone.”

Adachi shrugs. “Huh. That’s good, at least.”

Rise folds her hands, and like that, all attention rests on her again, her effortless charisma commanding the table. “I just wanted to thank you,” she begins. “I don’t know what would have happened to me otherwise. You all were looking out for me from the start, huh?”

“We were,” Yosuke agrees, still a bit awe-struck by her presence by the glassy look in his eyes but coming down to Earth. He no longer gapes openly like a fish in her presence, nor did he ask for her autograph in an incredible act of restraint. “We… kinda knew you’d be next.”

Yu’s brief explanation of the Midnight Channel—and all that it entails—goes over about as well as it always does with her, which is still one of the easiest ones. Rise is quick and accepts most of it at face value after some gentle prodding and questioning, and she understands what can’t be explained without too much frustration, unlike some of the others. She nods along and smiles when the others interject with other helpful tidbits, and when she’s caught up to speed, she’s resolute, her shoulders square.

“If this is what’s happening,” she starts, sliding her eyes along to each and every member of the table around her. “Then I want to help.”

“Of course,” Yu says, unable to fight the corners of his mouth from twitching up. It feels so good to have her back; it’s felt so good to have each of them back. “Consider yourself one of the team.”

After demolishing the two plates of beef over another conversation about what she remembers—nothing, as usual—and what evidence they have that points towards anyone—at this juncture, also nothing—one of the girls floats the offer to take Rise around to reacquaint her with her hometown and fully integrate her into the group.

“I should head back,” Adachi says once they’ve made it to the Shopping District, right as Yosuke’s cell phone goes off. Yu catches his eyes, and Adachi balks, frowning. “Don’t give me that look.”

Yu cocks his head to the side. “I wasn’t aware I was giving you one.”

In the background, Yosuke pulls out his phone and jams the answer button, sighing at whatever the screen says. “Hello?”

Whatever the other line says as Yosuke listens, his face contorts into confusion, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “What?”

After a few more minutes, Yosuke shakes his head and hangs up, and everyone’s attention that had splintered off into groups during the call floats back to him. He just looks down at his phone, brows still arched. “Someone named Doug Teddie is here at Junes to see me?”

Sometimes, Yu can’t help himself from letting on what he knows. Just a little. He tugs at Adachi’s sleeve, and says low, just to him, “You might want to stay for this.”

He grumbles something about Dojima murdering him if he doesn’t finish this paperwork on time, but the look Adachi gives him back says Yu’s already won.

Seeing Teddie in the outside world is a rollercoaster of the uncanny valley—by the time he ends each loop, he’s so used to it it's benign, but every time it comes around again, it’s been so long that it catches him off guard like it’s the first time.

When they arrive back at Junes, Teddie is dancing around in his little bear suit, surrounded by curious children and their cautious parents believing he’s a mascot for Junes. He fits right in entirely, despite the oddity of seeing him in the full light of day, all colorful and bright and boundlessly cheerful. When he catches sight of the group, he throws his bear arms in the air and runs over to their table excitedly, yelling each of their names on repeat as he does.

“Teddie,” Yosuke hisses, catching hold of Teddie’s shoulders and furiously miming for him to lower the volume on his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”

As always, this subtlety is lost on him. “I got curious to see if I could follow you guys out, since you’re always leaving without me!” Teddie says plainly, his hands on his hips and his face in the air defiantly. “It turns out all I had to do was just climb right out through the TV, and tadah! Here I am.”

Yosuke puts his head in his hands, darting his head around to see the sets of onlooking eyes that have already started to gather. “Teddie…”

“Oh!” Teddie waves his arms in the air before reaching for the zipper on his costume, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he stretches behind him. “Check this out!”

This time, Yu also puts out a hand to warn him, because he knows exactly where this leads, but none of his attempts, half-hearted as they sometimes have been, have ever been able to stop him before. Sure enough, Teddie is faster than both him and Yosuke, and before they can blink, he unzips the head of his costume and disappears in a brief cloud of sparkling fog, obscuring the thin silhouette of his human form underneath. When it clears, he’s holding his mascot head in his very human-like hands and grinning from ear to ear, blonde hair shining, and completely bare underneath the bottom of his bear suit.

“Hell no.” Adachi turns away on his heel before the fog has even completely cleared, covering his face with his hand. “Absolutely not. Someone fix this.”

Teddie frowns, slumping in his hold of his mascot head. “What do you mean? Aren’t you all excited?”

Yosuke sighs, gesturing for Kanji to help him in his efforts to cover him from onlooking eyes, arms spread out wide. Most have now turned away for respectability’s sake as well, a few parents even covering their children’s eyes, but Yosuke’s still determined to protect whatever remains of his modesty, it seems.

“I think he means that you’re not wearing anything, dumbass,” Yosuke groans. “Are you for real?”

On either side of Teddie, Yukiko and Chie take hold of his arms as Rise gently pries his mascot head from his hands and attaches it back onto its body, zipping it up with a pat.

“Come on,” Rise assures, leading him with the other girls towards the door. “Let’s buy you something nice.”

When Yu looks back at Adachi, he’s still staring away from the rest of the group, even as he watches Teddie and the girls disappear out of the corner of his eye. Kanji and Yosuke are left looking at the space where Teddie just occupied, the rest of the straggling onlookers finally deciding to move on from the impromptu sideshow, chattering to themselves under their breaths as they go.

“He’s real,” Adachi stutters, reeling back on Yu with an exaggerated turn. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Yosuke scoffs, taking the point before Yu can even formulate a reply. “Last we checked, he was hollow.”

“And inside the TV,” Kanji supplies, as if Adachi hasn’t been with them the whole time. Which, in the moments like this where Yu is forced to think about it, gives him a sense of vertigo, swaying him on his feet a little. “But I guess he really did face himself in there and all.”

Adachi rubs at the back of his neck. “I guess.”

Yosuke just sighs, whipping out his phone and texting something lazily with one hand. “Come on, let’s head back out. They can catch up with us.”

Despite how busy Adachi has been insisting he is, he slumps his hands in his pockets and follows them back out down the road to the Shopping District once more, the summer sun angled and hot. Yu is sticky with humidity and sweat even in just his thin white shirt, and glancing back at Adachi as they make their way up the hill, he has no idea how he’s faring still in his black jacket, but he’s straggling ever so slightly behind the others, and there’s a thin bead of moisture on his forehead, so Yu slows.

Yu has no idea what’s made him so bold lately—maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the strange, lingering after-effects of the fog, but either way, he slides behind Adachi and starts pulling gently at the collar of his jacket, hooking his fingers just underneath where it lies across his collarbones on either side and giving a tug in suggestion.

“Why are you still wearing this?” he asks, stepping back once he’s managed to peel it onto his shoulders and before either of them can realize what he’s done. “It’s boiling outside.”

Adachi’s spine goes rod-straight, but otherwise, he gives surprisingly little reaction, a slight pinch of his lips as he simply traces the edges of the jacket and slowly slinks it off his body, motions clinical and sharp as he ties it around his waist. “Uh. Thanks.”

He looks a lot more comfortable in just his button down. He avoids Yu’s eyes as he casually steps back out in front of him to catch up to the others, rolling up his sleeves as he looks down at the pavement. Still, whenever he looks away, Yu can feel his eyes on the back of his neck.

The girls call Yosuke to say they’re on their way before long. When they arrive, Teddie’s mascot costume is nowhere to be found—they fanagaled their way into the backroom and are using Yosuke’s work locker, to his dismay—and instead, Teddie is in his human form, sporting his usual lacey white shirt, tight black pants, and beloved rose lapel, spinning on his brand-new heeled boots to show off his look to gentle clapping from the crew. Even the girls, who have assuredly already seen this a dozen times in the dressing room, chime in with their approval to his absolute delight.

Now with the most pressing issue out of the way, his energy is directed towards seeing the town he’s heard so much about but never been able to visit, grabbing at Yosuke’s wrist and tugging hard in each and every way as Yosuke digs his heels into the cement in mild protest. “Take me on the tour!”

“I guess we’re showing the both of you around, then,” Yukiko remarks in the face of his exuberance, laughing as Chie ruffles his hair.

“Oh, great,” Adachi says, loud enough for the rest of them to hear but uttered like it’s meant for Yu. He gives a twitch of his lips to indicate he’s heard it, and Adachi leans in just a little to the side, the jacket around his waist swaying to brush against Yu’s hips. “A grand tour of Inaba. I should have left when I had the chance.”

“You still can, you know,” Yu reminds him, because he’s not sure if that would independently occur to him, either. “You’re not held hostage.”

Adachi frowns, but when he catches Yu’s eyes, something in them softens incompletely, like there’s something getting tossed around in his head, but after a second, his lips part into a sigh, and out of it, he says, “No. It’s too late. I don’t trust this kid in this world yet. Gotta make sure no one’s getting up to no good, you know.”

Yu won’t call his bluff. “I know.”

Adachi rubs at his head, almost sheepish, but when he turns away, he’s all business again, hand on his hip. “Well then. Take it away.”

In the shadow of the sun, Yu follows his friends down familiar roads with the feeling like somehow, somewhere in the magic, it’s the very first summer again.

The days pass, and nothing changes. Rise’s alive, Morooka’s still disappeared, and something that’s been itching at Yu’s skull for the past few weeks finally comes to a head, so he does what he always does when his thoughts get too loud. He goes fishing.

And he finds exactly what he needs. Underneath the shadow of the floodplain pavilion, Taro Namatame sits with a book by the river like he was placed there for Yu and Yu alone.

It isn’t exactly the question on his mind, but it’s one of the things floating around in it, enough that the spotting feels serendipitous. Seeing the man now, sunken eyes and the slight permanent tremor of his hands turning the pages of a book he’s read, he can’t help but wonder if it’s an answer from the universe, but either way, it’s one he’s grateful to take.

Still, he’s cautious on the approach, slinging his tackle bag over his shoulder and strolling by casually as if he didn’t notice him at all, stopping only to peer at the cover of the book as if it had just caught his eye for the first time. He stays a decent set of paces away from Namatame, heading towards the dock rather than the pavilions a few yards to the right, but it’s well within earshot when he says, “That one’s good, I’ve read it.”

Namatame turns with a slight start, eyes going wide as he presses a finger into his book to hold the page as he sets it on his crossed legs, dressed down casual in slacks and a short-sleeved button-down rather than the delivery uniform or professional clothing. “Really? I’m enjoying it so far.”

Yu nods, giving him an experimental soft smile. He adjusts the fishing pole over his shoulder, in no rush to actually make it down to the dock, now. “I really like that author,” he replies, relieved at the chance to be honest for once. It’s interesting, the idea that he and this man might have similar tastes. He read through a good portion of their collection several summers ago, real summers, back in the city when there was little but words to keep him company. “My favorite is his debut, but I’m fond of this one too.”

“I love the style.” Namatame smiles back, and it stretches his hollow face, but it’s warm, pleasant, even. While possessed, he was never one for smiling, not even gruesome ones like Adachi can pull, so seeing one now is odd, but welcome. “I put this one off because it’s so popular, but that was silly of me. Things are known for a reason, sometimes.”

“Agreed,” Yu says, evenly, before judging the waters between them and jumping in. “You’re Taro Namatame, right?”

He visibly tenses at that, his spine curling in time with his fingers across his book as he averts his eyes for a split second, swallowing, and Yu does his best to look as unthreatening as possible, posture easy and light. “If you’re looking for something, I…”

Yu shakes his head. “I’m Yu Narukami. I transferred to the high school here not too long ago. I was just curious, is all.”

“Oh.” He thumbs to his page in the book again, but doesn’t look down at it. “I suppose that’s alright, then. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yu shifts on his feet, testing the waters again. “I hear you grew up here?”

Though Namatame still stiffens a bit, he doesn’t recoil from it this time, changing the cross of his legs. “I did.”

Yu takes a step closer, crossing over towards the shade of the pavilion, half to continue the conversation and half to escape the direct rays of the afternoon sun. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he hedges. “But is it strange being back? Coming from the city is kind of an adjustment I’m trying to make myself.”

He does his best to look a little sheepish and lost to sell it, and something in his expression must capture Namatame’s attention, because he closes his book again and pivots towards him on the bench ever so slightly. “A little,” he begins, with a thoughtful hum. “But I kind of like the quiet. It’s a nice change of pace.”

“Really?” Yu prompts, crossing his ankles. “I kind of do too, it’s just different. You look healthier than when I used to see you on TV, I think.”

Namatame’s eyes widen a bit, his head tilting to the side. He’s still rod-straight, a little cautious and held back from Yu, but it’s melting, if unevenly. “You think so?” Namatame sets his book down properly on the bench beside him, staring out into the water beyond. “Perhaps that’s true. That type of life can be stressful.”

Yu hums, taking in Namatame’s profile, healthy despite his frail frame. “You have a delivery business, right? That doesn’t seem too bad for a town like this.”

Namatame smiles again, a little bit broader, and when he looks up at Yu properly for the first time, his eyes are bright and brown. “It’s really not,” he agrees, slinging an elbow onto the back of the bench behind him. “It could be worse.”

His eyes are clear, but not every lingering question Yu has about this situation is satisfied by that alone. “This is random,” he begins with a little laugh to hide his intention. “But since you grew up here, I’m curious… has the Midnight Channel rumor always been around?”

Namatame’s brows furrow, a look of genuine confusion splintering across his face. “The what?”

“How you look into a TV at midnight when it’s raining?” Yu prompts, but with each word he speaks, Namatame’s confusion only seems to grow. “Maybe it’s just for high schoolers nowadays.”

“Must be,” Namatame says, and no matter how long or how close Yu peers at him, he finds nothing in his expression that could indicate there’s something he’s not letting on, nothing to indicate that his blank face is anything other than exactly what it seems. “Never heard of it.”

“Nevermind, then.” Yu waves a hand in dismissal, readjusting his tackle box and pole. “It’s been floating around at school so I wondered if it was some old town rumor.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Namatame says, then looks Yu up and down. “Are you going fishing?”

Yu nods, gesturing with his shoulder towards the water. “Sure am,” he replies. “You should come with me sometime, if you’re ever down here.”

Namatame just looks at him like he’s absolutely inscrutable, but Yu’s used to that expression. “You’re a strange young man,” he murmurs, taking the cue to pick up his book and flip through until he finds his page before looking up again, a thoughtful line to his lips. “Maybe I will.”

Yu gives him a wave over his shoulder before bounding down the path towards the dock, heart skipping a beat in his chest from a mix of uncertainty and relief he can’t quite name. “See you around, Mr. Namatame.”

He looks behind him just long enough to see him return it. “See you.”

Wherever there’s answers, it seems, there’s only more questions.

Adachi calls him the next day to provide him with even more of both, starting with the request that they meet—alone—at neither of their homes. Instead, he asks for a meeting at the hillside park by the river late after work, and after wrapping up dinner with Nanako, and packaging up some leftovers for Adachi as well, he makes his way to their agreed-upon meeting place with trepidation.

When he arrives, Adachi is already seated in one of the benches, slumped over his knees with his head dangling between his shoulders. He barely looks up until Yu’s shadow is right over him, and it’s then he pulls himself up to attention, stretching his arms out wide overhead with a yawn before folding back down, holding himself up higher than before. Yu takes a seat next to him wordlessly, and he can feel the tension radiating off of him in waves, seeping out of his body and into the air around them.

Adachi throws his head back and closes his eyes with a grimace. “You won’t believe the shit I just heard at the station.”

Yu folds his hands in his lap to avoid clenching them unconsciously around his own legs, like Adachi’s doing. “Hit me with it.”

“Some kid came in,” Adachi begins, like the words have been bubbling up within him for hours and he can barely wait to let them escape from his chest. “Like, a few fucking weeks ago. Mitsuo something. Anyway, he confessed to all the kidnappings. He even told the detectives he could tell them where Rise and Morooka were. Everything.”

Yu swallows. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Adachi laughs, once, hollow and humorless. “And I’m just now finding out, because apparently they just laughed him off and not even your fucking uncle thought it would be pertinent to tell me this even happened at all, especially after Rise showed up just fine and dandy with absolutely no clue who that kid was. No one seems to want to even find the other guy, they’re too convinced he’ll just waltz in there any day now because that’s what’s happened to the rest, now isn’t it?”

“There’s no signature in the other world,” Yu says, mostly to himself. His mouth has gone dry. “We’ve checked every time we’ve gone in.”

“I know that,” Adachi snaps, but even in his clear agitation, it’s toothless towards him, more a puff of air than anything as he runs a hand back through his hair, shaking slightly. “But I can’t exactly explain that one to them, can I? I’m sure that would go over real well. Shit, I’m already biting my tongue hard enough to bleed all day every day, trying to keep this crazy TV nonsense on lock. It’d be a lot easier to do if anyone gave a damn about finding the truth around here, rather than laughing off potential suspects. Fuck.”

Adachi wipes at his lips where a bit of salvia has gathered at the corners from the force of his words, glaring out into the distance at what looks like nothing in particular. Yu just looks at the side of his face, the harsh draw of his brows, and has the delirious thought of wishing he could smooth it out with his fingertips. He clings tighter to his own hands.

“Sorry,” Adachi says after a minute, looking away like a schoolboy reprimanded despite Yu’s silence. It fades after a moment, though, as emotion seems to swell again, Adachi gripping at the edge of the bench. “It’s just, this always fucking happens. Police departments love this shit, you know? If details aren’t convenient and don’t align with the narrative they want, they shove it under the rug. That’s what they do. It’s all about a sure fucking verdict. I should have learned my lesson the first time.”

Yu doesn’t know if he’s supposed to ask, but he’s never known. In all these loops, he’s never known. Adachi’s never told him, and now, being offered the closest thing to an answer he’s ever gotten, curiosity gets the better of him. “The first time?”

“Oh, I haven’t told you?” Adachi meets his eyes, and he can’t help but entertain the brief, irrational, terrifying thought that Adachi could be capable of reading his mind, sometimes. With a blink, he’s gone again, staring up at the sky as it rapidly deepens with dark orange hues, the sun setting behind them. “That’s what got my ass kicked out here in the first place. They were about to book a guy, right? I wasn’t convinced of it. I’m still not. So I tried to do some digging of my own—it was such a bullshit case, some stupid armed robbery. But I was just some cocky brat who thought I could find my own evidence.”

Adachi takes a breath to set himself, words spilling over each other as he pushes them through gritted teeth, and Yu doesn’t know if he’s supposed to cut in, but he does anyway. “Did you find it?”

“I did,” Adachi says, defiant, like it’s punched out of him. “It was damn compelling, too. Not that they cared. I got read the riot act of the century for wasting precious police time and resources and trying to derail a trial. Even though they were the ones ignoring what was right in front of them and I had to double down and do their work for them. No one gives a fuck about any of that. They already had it out for me because I didn’t put on this stupid act I do now, I actually acted like I gave a shit, and I guess that rubs people the wrong way when your entire job boils down to not giving any when it actually fucking matters.”

By the end of it, Adachi’s chest is heaving like he’s panting for air, or maybe it’s just anger, flowing into his fingertips where he’s still gripping onto the bench like he wants to tear it to pieces. “So yeah. I got my ass sent out here for caring about the truth, so excuse me if I sound a little bitter to you when I sit around and point out that no one fucking cares about it. It’s because they don’t.” He exhales deeply. “It’s easier, you know. To live in ignorance. Believing what’s convenient.”

Yu wants to reach out and touch him, to steady him, and eventually, he can’t suppress it anymore, placing a hand to his thigh and feeling Adachi’s entire body go tense around it before slowly, ever so slowly, starting to go slack again, relaxing around the touch marginally. There’s a grip to Yu’s other hand on the bench, too, that he can’t hide, anger of his own that he doesn’t quite know how to express but he knows flickers in his eyes when Adachi looks up at him at the intrusion. When their gazes meet, briefly, his black eyes immediately flash into full color faster than Yu’s heart can skip a beat at the sight of them lightless.

“I do,” Yu assures him, staring right at the edge of his eyes until even Adachi can’t ignore the force of it and he finally looks his way again. “I swear, we’ll get to the bottom of this. I’m not going to ignore it. And neither are you.”

Yu lets his hand linger until Adachi’s fingers begin to unclench, degree by degree, second by second. “Yeah, sure.” When Adachi’s hands are back in his lap, only then does Yu pull back, and in that space, he swears Adachi makes up some of the distance, because when he sits up straight again, their shoulders brush. “Whatever, Yu.”

At least he doesn’t call him kid, and there’s a truth in that, too.

Chapter Text

Just like that, it’s summer break again.

Well, almost summer break again. There’s still finals to get through, but for Yu, that’s nothing. He’s had these test answers memorized for loops upon loops, but without an excuse for that, he finds himself easily agreeing to arrange a study group at Junes the weekend before, watching as it amasses more and more people throughout the week. By the time Sunday rolls around, even he’s lost track of how many people he’s invited, but he’s confident that he’ll manage to raise the grades of whoever does show up, short of just giving them the answers.

He’s side-tracked on his way in, though, by the shimmering halo of the Velvet Room door and Marie’s silhouette outside of it, pulling him off the path towards Junes and towards her instead. There will be more than enough people that it won’t matter if he shows up late, and there’s more than enough to catch Marie up on.

He greets her with a wave and bounds up to the door, smiling in the face of her ever-present scowl that softens when she sees his approach. “I’ve been meaning to catch you,” he says, stalling in front of where she stands. “Let’s take a walk.”

Marie makes a face, but shrugs, stepping out from the threshold of the door to join Yu at his side. “Are you headed somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Yu nods, heading back up the hill in the direction of Junes. “We have a big study group today. I know you’re not in school or anything, but Teddie and Rise will be there, so you should come, you know. Meet them again.”

Marie crosses her arms tightly over her chest, slowing her steps. “Are you sure it won’t be weird?”

Yu shakes his head. “Of course it won’t. You’re my friend.”

She picks up the pace to match him again, but doesn’t lower her arms, still held defensively over her body. She frowns and gives a scoff under her breath, but after meeting Yu’s eyes and finding them unwavering as ever, she just sighs, staring down at the cement. “Well, alright,” she relents. “I do miss them.”

“Great,” Yu glances over at her, grinning briefly before letting it fall into a more measured expression. “Besides, I have news. Sort of.”

Marie raises her eyebrows at him, an offering of her attention, and Yu tells her as they walk what Adachi had relayed to him about Mitsuo Kubo and the police station, as well as what Yu has gathered from his conversation with Namatame, speaking quickly and under his breath despite the quiet summer day, especially as they pull ever closer to Junes. Marie listens in relative silence, clicking her tongue in lieu of a reply to prompt him onwards, but when he finishes, she looks at him sideways, tapping her fingers against her arms.

“So you don’t think it’s either of them?” Marie asks, adjusting the brim of her cap. Junes is looming now beyond the trees, and they both slow their steps, stalling. “Or do you?”

Yu hums, putting a finger to his lips. “I think Kubo is still behind Morooka,” he admits. It’s never been different in all the loops, and even though it’s King Moron, the fact he can’t act on it weighs on him by the day. “But no, I don’t. I can’t say I know about Kubo either way for sure, but it’s never been him. Namatame, though? No. I can’t see it. I really can’t. He had no idea what I was talking about.”

“What does that mean for you, then?” Marie asks as they make their way through the parking lot, sun reflecting hot on the asphalt and windshields of cars around them.

Yu shrugs, finding it itches under his skin more than he expected to come up blank on yet another answer. “I don’t know. That’s the frustrating part.”

Marie sighs again, and this time, Yu has the distinct feeling it’s for him rather than at him. Even from the parking lot, he can hear the group already beginning to amass on the patio, the voices of his friends lifting up over the air and carrying through almost enough to make out the individual words. He can at least tell who’s speaking, and from the sounds of it, he’ll be the last of the main crew to arrive.

“I guess we’ll just have to see,” she offers, finally letting her arms fall. Still, she plays with the bracelets on her opposite wrist as she stands, another nervous tick. “And now you have to go pretend to be normal.”

Yu shakes his head. “We are going to remake some friends.”

Marie rolls her eyes as her cheeks turn with slight color, but she just continues her march towards the front entrance, Yu having to lengthen his pace to keep up. “Yeah, whatever.”

Inside on the patio, they’ve already had to squish together another table to make it work. Yu did invite everyone he knows, after all. The Investigation Team is a given, but along with the regular crew, the crowded tables include both Konishi siblings, Kou, Daisuke, Ai, and even Yumi who Yu had managed to drag away from rehearsals long enough to commit to studying. Teddie, now permanently attached to Yosuke’s side now that he’s invited himself under his bustling roof, flitters about uselessly with a topsicle in his mouth, dribbling vibrantly dyed fruit water in his wake wherever he goes.

At his arrival, both Yosuke and Rise look up to give a wave from their positions at the head of the table on either side, Rise’s eyes going wide at the new face. Everyone else is engaged in a flurry of papers and books all strewn across the table, little side conversations here and there preoccupying the table's residents. However, they all slowly start to look up one by one, each offering their own version of a greeting all on top of each other.

“Hey, guys,” Yu says with a small laugh, swinging his backpack off his shoulders to set it on the table and start pulling out his books. Behind him, Marie hasn’t moved from where she first crossed the threshold of the door, so he gives her a smile and ushers her closer with a small gesture. “If you haven’t met her yet, this is my friend Marie. She’s from out of town. Is it cool if she studies with us?”

“Of course,” Rise chimes in before anyone else can object—not that they will, judging by the series of nods and verbal agreements that flood from the table in the seconds that follow. “We can make room.”

It takes some coordination, but eventually news gets down the aisle to scoot down, and after some shuffling and minor griping from Chie at the intrusion, there’s enough room for both of them to take a seat, Yu tactfully letting Marie slide in first next to Rise so he can sit on the end. His assistance will be needed in no time, surely.

“Glad you finally made it,” Yosuke gently ribs him, elbowing his arm with a teasing sort of grin as he flips through his math textbook with Kanji over his shoulder making horrified faces at the contents of the second year’s exams. The Konishi siblings are seated beyond him, Naoki closest to him and Saki on the other side near Yumi, who Yu recently learned she knows through the school festival last year, with Ai heading up the end of the table opposite from Kou and Daisuke on the other side before looping around back to the girls of the Investigation Team. “We could use your help, oh Mr. Best Scores in the Class.”

“They’re not that good,” Yu says, even though they are. He moves through his stack of textbooks until he finds his own on math as well, lazily flipping through until he finds the section they’re vaguely on.

“Better than this one’s,” Chie accuses from across the table, pointing her sauce-covered chopsticks towards Yosuke before putting another slice of beef in her mouth.

“And yours,” Yosuke fires back, hugging his textbook to his chest protectively. In the absence of something to peek at, Kanji sighs and returns to his own textbook, but it doesn’t seem to horrify him any less than the contents of Yosuke’s, his eyes going crossed. “And everyone’s. Like I said.”

“Well,” Yu gestures out to his books in front of him. “I’m here to be of assistance.”

And assistance he ends up being, his attention immediately being pulled in five separate directions before he can even spread out the rest of his books. Chie wants help on history and Yukiko’s stumped by English, Kanji is over his head with anything to do with numbers and Teddie just seems to want his attention, and while there’s only so many hands and eyes Yu possesses, he’s confident enough in the material that he’s able to flitter about and answer questions without much stress. Plus, the benefit of having a group this large is that others can splinter off and help each other when Yu is occupied. After several minutes of Naoki and Kanji both looking over their class’ homework with matching unsure expressions, Yu watches out of the corner of his eye in-between answering a biology question from Saki’s classwork as Naoki reaches around Kanji to tap Yosuke on the shoulder, holding up his book.

“Do you remember this from last year?” Naoki asks, pointing to a series of graphs on his math work. Yosuke reaches past Kanji to squint at it before nodding slowly and taking it from his hands, his reply getting caught up in the bustle around them but making Naoki break out into a smile all the same.

Yu returns to Saki’s book to make note of something, but she catches his eye instead, and in the space it creates, he returns her smile, watching as her eyes then flicker over to her brother once more before they settle back on her own work again, the corners of her lips still curled up. Even though it’s above his grade level, he’s gotten so accustomed to his own work that it’s easy to fill in the gaps and make the correct inferences, and before long, he’s whisked away to help Daisuke with Japanese, Yu carrying his books to the opposite side of the table once more.

“How’d you get so good at this?” Daisuke asks as he stares at his nearly-blank page of notes, tapping his pencil. At his side, Kou leans in to read whatever Daisuke is working on, barely flinching even as Ai kicks him hard underneath the table on his shin to try and get his attention back on the history homework they were sharing their work on. “You’re like a wizard.”

“I’m just good at school,” Yu shrugs, because it’s mostly the truth. It was just something he had to be good at, for most of his life. “I study a lot.”

“You’re also like, the busiest person I know,” Daisuke laughs, as Kou chimes in with his agreement.

Yu just shrugs and offers a closed-lipped smile. “Comes with the territory.”

From there, Kou gets distracted by something on Daisuke’s homework, and they’re wrapped up in each other’s worlds again, leaving Yu free to be whisked away by someone else. He watches as Ai reaches for Kou’s shin again under the table, but when it fails to bring him back down to Earth yet again, she huffs, the force of her sigh pulling up Yumi’s attention from where she’d been staring down at her book in silence.

“Wanna look over this with me?” Yumi offers, high in her voice and a little unsure. Ai turns to her like she’s just now realized she’s there, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and shrugging.

“Sure,” she says, just as Kanji, who is now stuck awkwardly between a Naoki and Yosuke working over him, raises his hand to get Yu’s attention from across the table.

He weaves over to where Kanji’s sitting and approaches him from the back so he can turn around, letting the other two work behind him over the table as he takes his book and faces Yu. “Can you look at this practice essay response for me?”

Kanji hands Yu a stack of notebook paper with slightly shaking hands, and Yu takes it with grace, letting his eyes fly over the pages and pulling out a pen from his pocket. He steadies the papers on his knee so he can mark it up with suggestions, tongue between his teeth as he carves out a slight space in between Kanji and Yosuke’s hips for his foot to rest. Before he can even get halfway through it, though, he hears his name ring out over the group again, cutting his concentration.

“Yu! Come here!” Rise calls, long and overly syrupy. She’s already taken to this form of light teasing like the wind, demanding his attention and affection in an over-the-top manner, and as much as Yu can roll with the punches—it’s a little funny, knowing it comes from a mutual understanding that the flirtatiousness will never be acted upon—it’s always a bit jarring when it first comes out, if only because it’s so different than the rest of them. “Stop hogging his attention, Kanji! Help me with my stuff, too!”

Yu hesitates, but Kanji just shakes his head and reaches for his papers back, grinning. “This is enough feedback, thanks.”

Once again, Yu gathers his things and makes his way to the opposite side of the table, back to his original seat where Marie has been wrapped up in a conversation with Rise practically since they arrived—though if it was against her will or not, Yu’s been too busy to be able to tell. On Rise’s other side, Teddie has seemingly found his permanent perch, sitting out facing the opposite way and swinging his legs out as he works on yet another topsicle, finding his way into the conversation only after getting his ample fill of distracting everyone else while Yu’s back was turned.

Still, the air around them seems relatively easy when he sits down, especially for Marie’s standards, as Rise stands to switch places with Marie and puts herself in the middle between her and Yu, reaching to grab hold of his hand.

“Your friend is the best,” Rise gushes, squeezing down on his fingers. Her touchiness, though he acclimates to it quickly, too, stands out among the rest as always. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew someone who was good at writing? She’s been helping me with my Japanese homework!”

Marie looks away sharply up towards the sky, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms again. “I’m not really.”

“She so is,” Rise argues, placing her free hand on Marie’s arm. She jumps at the intrusion of touch, but doesn’t pull back, staring at the point of contact as if Rise’s perfectly manicured nails might explode at any moment. Rise giggles, giving Marie a light push before dropping her hand again and putting both on Yu’s, giving an exaggerated pout. “But I want some of your attention, too! It’s not fair that everyone else gets it.”

“Sure,” he agrees easily, giving her hands a little pat before dropping them with a wink. “What subject?”

“History,” she whines, reaching into her bag and pulling out her textbook as if it were diseased. Marie stares at the cover over her shoulder, prompting Teddie to lean back and take a peek as well, blatant curiosity on both of their faces. “It’s so boring, but you can make it interesting I’m sure.”

Yu guides the book upright in her hands and squeezes in closer so everyone can get a better look, flipping to the relevant section. “Here, Marie, you can hold it up. Pull out your notes, Rise.”

Marie takes and holds her thumb on the page Yu had found while she starts turning through it as Rise rifles around in her bag, finally procuring a sleek pink bound notebook and pen from her bag with a sigh. Yu rolls his eyes at her strife, good natured, and in response, Rise wraps her arms around his shoulders with enough force to nearly knock him off the bench, gripping the underside of the table with his nails to keep his balance.

“Read it to me,” she demands, pulling him in even closer to where Marie has gone back to dutifully holding up the textbook, though she’s now got her thumb bookmarking a page of her own that she’s found now that she’s flipped back to Yu’s.

Yu clears his throat, but just as he’s about to humor her, Yosuke’s voice cuts out over the table, bringing Yu to full upright attention. “Hey, Adachi!”

Yu whips his head around, but Rise clings on tight, and when he faces the front of the table, he’s staring right down Adachi from where he’s standing near the drink stand, soda in hand like he’s just been caught under a searchlight. His eyes scan over the table, but they find Yu’s quick, settling first on him and then on Rise over him, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder and his subtle attempts to shake her off either going over her head or being purposefully ignored.

Adachi stalls for a minute, like he’s not sure if he wants to keep walking like he didn’t hear it at all or give in, but eventually, he must realize they’ve all been staring at him too long to run, and he begins to meander over to the table, a deep slouch in his spine and his hand in his pocket. “Well, looks like quite the crew,” he remarks, walking up until he’s right behind Yu and taking a loud sip of his drink as he scans his eyes over the table. “What are we doing here?”

“Yu’s helping us all study,” Rise declares, running a hand down the edge of Yu’s arm in a way he’s sure Adachi can see as clear as daylight. His next attempt to slither away is met with a tightening of the arm around his neck, just slightly. “Finals are coming up soon.”

“Is that so?” Adachi hums, and though he attempts to hide it by sliding his eyes to the side, he’s unsubtle about how he scans the pair of them up and down, straw between his teeth. “You can’t rely on Yu when the test comes, you know.”

With no escape presenting itself, he does his best to act unaffected, staring Adachi down as if nothing were amiss. “No harm in helping prepare them though.”

“Right,” Rise agrees, and he can feel the press of her smile against his neck. “Hey, Adachi, you’re a detective, yeah? You were probably pretty good in school.”

Adachi takes a step back, holding up the hand that was in his pocket. “Uh, well…”

“Yeah, Adachi,” Chie pipes up from Teddie’s other side, leaning back to usher him over with a wide wave of her arm. “Get over here and help out while you’re around. Yukiko and I are stumped.”

She shoves a piece of paper out, and when she can’t reach all the way, Teddie helpfully takes hold of it and reaches it out right up to Adachi’s face where he can’t ignore it. He stares at it for a beat of silence before resignation takes over in his eyes and he snatches it up before marching over to where Chie and Yukiko sit, peering down at the paper and tapping his foot on the concrete.

“Most of this is wrong,” he says after a thorough assessment of the page—full of math practice problems, from what Yu can see of it. “You’re making the same mistake in all of these. Go back and check how you’re getting the numbers, it’s an error in the division.”

“Oh,” Chie says, a bit mollified. She takes the paper back with a thoughtful hum, Yukiko putting a hand to her shoulder to look down at the paper anew together. “Thanks.”

“But anyway,” Adachi dismisses, taking another sip of his drink and a definitive step back. “What do I know? This stuff’s too complicated for me. I’ll stick to helping Nanako, thanks. I gotta get back to work.”

Only after he disappears back into the hull of Junes does Rise finally drop his hold on him, returning to hold onto her book with Marie like nothing happened at all, looking at Yu over her shoulder with an innocent expression. “He’s a bit of an odd one, isn’t he?”

It might be rich coming from her, and it might be rich coming from him too, all things considered, but still, he agrees, “You could say that.”

Finals week is upon them, and it passes by for Yu in a blur of numbing ease. He moves through them in a haze, his pencil moving for him while his mind wanders elsewhere, the days melting into one another in an indiscernible mesh of numbers and letters, each like the last. It stays like this right up until nearly the end, when he finally returns to his body Wednesday night after a shift at Shiroku to find not only Dojima home, but Adachi as well. Both of them are around the kotatsu with Nanako and Junes-bought packaged dinners in hand, watching the TV. He comes back to himself unevenly, standing in the doorway for a solid moment before he returns to his senses and closes the door behind them, all three of them turning to look at his entrance.

“I didn’t know you’d all be home,” he says after a minute, realizing they’re waiting for him to speak. He shrugs off his shoes and bag in the hallway and makes his way to the living room, running a hand through his hair. “I would have come back sooner and made something.”

“Nonsense,” Dojima dismisses, ushering him towards the kotatsu. Yu follows, taking the open seat in between Nanako and Adachi and folding his hands. He already ate at work, thinking Nanako would be able to find something among the leftovers if she were alone. “You have finals, no need to be cooking. Though I have to wonder why you’re working when you have a test tomorrow instead.”

“I only have a couple tests in the morning.” Yu scratches at his neck, feeling Adachi’s eyes on the side of it but too pinned down by Dojima’s infamous detective’s stare to answer it. “Besides, I feel really confident.”

“It’s true,” Adachi offers, a hint of something underneath his tone that he swallows with a sip of beer before speaking again. “I saw him studying with a bunch of his friends over the weekend. He was the one teaching them, it looked like.”

Dojima gives him a glance like they’re both fully aware that’s not what Adachi is supposed to use his on the clock time to be aware of, but it gives Yu a break from being on the other side of that intensity, and he takes it with a grateful breath. It gives him a chance to meet Adachi’s eyes out of the corner of his own, too, but when he looks over, Adachi’s are stubbornly on his can of beer as he raises it to his lips to drink again.

“It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow,” Nanako says, like she could somehow sniff out the hint of tension that was beginning to fill the air between them, sensitive to the mood as ever. “We should do something! To celebrate Big Bro’s tests!”

Dojima hums, eyes softening as he turns to his daughter. “I do have the day off, if all goes well.”

Nanako brightens at that like a fluorescent light, sitting up straight in her seat and balling her fists in her lap. “Really?”

“Yeah, whatever Yu wants to do,” Dojima nods after a moment of thought, taking a sip of his own beer. “You’ve gotten good grades all year. I don’t see why now should be different.”

Although he’s certain Nanako would be thrilled with a simple trip to Junes, he has enough of his fill of that place on the day to day to last him a lifetime, and if this is really for his sake, he wants something a little more than that. He racks his brain for a minute, crossing his legs. “If it’s supposed to be nice,” he hedges, the summer sun filling his mind. “Then why not go to the beach right after I get out of school? To celebrate the season.”

Yu didn’t know it was possible for Nanako to look even more excited than she already did, but her face is absolutely cracking with joy, nearly buzzing out of her seat. “That sounds amazing!”

“Sounds fun,” Dojima agrees with a smile, before pivoting to Adachi with another sip and a harsher fall of his brows. “You’re coming. You have the day off too, remember?”

Adachi looks between the three of them slowly, flickering over Nanako’s exuberant expression each time before finally resting on it with a sigh. “Really? Do I really have to spend my day off getting sand in…”

He tapers off with another, deeper sigh, shaking his head. It would take a stronger man than him to look at Nanako right now and dare to say no to her, let alone ignoring the slight glint in his eye that betrays his own, slight excitement at the idea. Yu hides his smile behind the heel of his hand, pressing his elbow to the table. “Fine,” Adachi relents, putting his hands up. “Fine. The beach it is.”

With his toes in the sand of Shichiri beach, Yu feels warm from more than just the sun.

It was a boisterous ride up, Dojima and Adachi arriving in the car with Nanako in tow right after Yu’s tests wrap up for the day, leaving him with barely enough time to say goodbye to his friends before he’s whisked away to bickering over music and wind through his hair from the backseat. Adachi complained about the sun in his eyes the whole ride up, even after declining an extra pair of Dojima’s sunglasses on account of them being too bulky, and he’s still doing so now from where they’re beginning to set up from behind where Yu’s standing, his voice carrying out over the waves.

With everything now brought out from the car, Yu’s found himself wandering up towards the shore, shedding his shirt as he goes, his shoes abandoned behind him on the towels they’ve set out and the waves just shy of licking at his toes. As he looks out onto the horizon, the seafoam rolling up in rhythmic waves, he feels at peace, even with the slight chaos behind him.

“You need to put on sunscreen before you go out there,” Dojima chides in the middle of wrangling Nanako from following Yu out to the shore, holding her back with an arm as he wrestles around in their faded family beach bag. “Stop setting a bad example.”

“Sorry,” Yu calls, turning over his shoulder to head back towards their camp. They have a large beach umbrella Dojima had procured from somewhere deep in storage set out up on the incline above them to shade the area. “I just wanted to see the water.”

He ducks back underneath the cover of the umbrella and takes a seat, waiting as Dojima tosses one of what must be five half-empty, questionably ancient sunscreen bottles in Yu’s direction and another in Adachi’s that he fumbles to catch. Yu pops the cap on his and lathers it up his arms, relishing in the feeling of something cool against his skin. Dojima gets to work on making sure Nanako is covered before attending to himself, despite his assurances he’ll be spending most of the day underneath the shade to keep watch.

Yu gets everywhere he can reach before he turns to Adachi and asks, “Can you get my back?”

Adachi pauses from where he’s leisurely applying his own sunscreen with a far-away sort of look, snapping back to reality. He looks Yu over, eyes roving across the rows of cut muscle he’s accumulated from years in the TV world, and the weight of his gaze makes Yu feel pinned down in a way that has him shifting his feet. Then Adachi blinks and says, “Can you not reach?”

“No,” Yu deadpans, holding out his sunscreen. “It’s my back.”

Adachi glances down to the sunscreen, then up to Yu, then back down, before he rolls his eyes and grabs it from his hands. “Fine. Hold still.”

Yu dutifully turns around and offers his back, ripping his own attention away from the slather of off-white cream in Adachi’s hand. He shivers at the proximity and the chill of the sunscreen when Adachi finally lays his fingers between his shoulder blades.

“Man,” Adachi murmurs as he works across Yu’s deltoids, pressing briefly into the muscle before moving on. “Look at you. Must be nice, getting attention from even a celebrity like Risette. No wonder she’s all over you.”

It’s colder when it’s someone else’s touch, and goosebumps erupt across his skin as Adachi makes quick, rough work of the very middle of his back. “That was…” Yu stalls, trying to think of a way to even put it into words. “That’s nothing. She’s just like that.”

“Whatever you say,” Adachi huffs. “As long as she knows it’s nothing, right?” He gives a short laugh before he steps back. “There.”

Despite how brusque it was, it seems to be good enough, Yu feeling the weight of the sunscreen across his back. “Want me to do yours?” He lets himself take the moment to trace his eyes down Adachi’s body, which he so rarely gets to see—he’s thin, but a little soft, and Yu desperately wants to touch him.

“I’m good,” Adachi shakes his head, tossing his own sunscreen back in the direction of Dojima’s bag and crossing his arms over his chest, cutting off Yu’s maybe too-blatant staring. “I’ll probably spend most of the day here anyway, too.”

“You sure?” Yu raises his eyebrows, but Adachi just leans back into the sandbank with his eyes closed, resolute, and there’s nothing Yu can do but shrug. “Well, alright. Don’t come crying to me when it gets burned.”

Adachi peeks one eye open to stare at Yu blankly, but Yu just grins, turning to Nanako and beckoning her over. “Come on, let’s go check out the water.”

Taking her hand, Yu leads Nanako over to the shore, gently walking her up to the water’s edge. It’s warm to the touch, but she still dances away at the first lick of the water at her toes. Slowly, she acclimates to it, giggling as it begins to lap at her ankles as they wade deeper into the tide, the water clear and blue.

As he leads her up to her knees, she turns around and calls over her shoulder, “Dad! Adachi! The water is perfect! Come here!”

Dojima, when he’s around, is loathe to say to no to her, and when Dojima rises up to his feet with a huff and sends Adachi a look, there’s nothing he can do but follow, crawling up to stand and padding behind Dojima over to Yu and Nanako with a yawn, scratching his head.

“Damn,” Adachi remarks, staring at the crystal clear blue of the water it begins to lap at his own ankles. “It is nice.”

Now that he’s here and up on his feet, Yu can’t help but want to push him more. “Come on,” he gestures towards the water, one hand still firmly in Nanako’s for safety. “You get used to it if you just jump in.”

Adachi curls his toes as he steps back from the water and winces. “No way.”

Nanako lets go of Yu’s hand only to cross over to Dojima and pull at his swim trunks, pointing towards the waves as she rightfully seems to decide it’s only with him that she’ll get the permission. “Dad, I wanna go in.”

He takes hold of her hand instead, smiling at Yu as if he had somehow known this as well. “Sure thing, sweetheart,” he says, lifting her up in his arms with a huff and wading deeper into the water, leaving Yu and Adachi standing on the shore.

“Well?” Yu kicks at the water in demonstration. “Don’t make me push you in.”

Adachi stares at him right back, defiant. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Yu takes a step forward towards him, glancing out of the corner of his eye as Dojima and Nanako wade far enough out that they have to start swimming properly, floating out further from the shore as they continue to stand at the edge. “Don’t test me.”

Adachi stands his ground, but when Yu lunges forward in a fake, he flinches and pedals back hard, tripping on the sand and falling backwards straight into the water with a splash, sputtering as he goes. Yu can’t help it—he bursts into laughter that still rings loud when Adachi gathers his purchase on the sand and pushes himself above the water and onto hands and knees, doubling over and clutching at his chest.

“You—!” Adachi yells, kicking at the water to send it splashing up at Yu’s face in a fit. He just laughs through it, wiping it off before giving up entirely and sinking forward into the water next to him.

“I didn’t even touch you,” Yu objects, blindly splashing him back before his vision returns. The waves roll over their shoulders, pulling their bodies through the sand, but neither of them push to get up, their heads still firmly above the water in the shallows. “You did that to yourself.”

Adachi pushes Yu down into the water by his shoulders, but he’s too fast, catching himself on his hands before the tide can pull him under. “You were going to.”

“I wasn’t,” Yu argues, but he’s grinning from ear to ear, the force of it pinching at his cheeks. “I swear it.”

Adachi scowls—or tries to, because before long, his face starts to pinch up too, and he bursts into laughter as well, harsher and more uneven than Yu’s, but genuine all the same, like it’s getting punched out of him against his will.

“You’re a liar, Yu Narukami,” Adachi accuses, sending another swipe of water his way. Yu puts his hands up in defense, but it’s pointless, his hair and body now soaked in seawater. “Don’t act innocent.”

Yu puts on his best mask, leaning back in the water. “What act?”

“You’re insufferable,” Adachi insists, before his eyes soften from their comedic arc into something more grounded as he stares at something on Yu’s face. “And you have kelp on you.”

Yu pats at his cheek, but feels nothing but saltwater. “Where?”

Shaking his head, Adachi leans forward and puts a hand to Yu’s temple, and close enough that the water from his collarbones is dripping down onto Yu’s chest, he plucks a strand of seaweed out, leaning back just enough to let it wash away in the tide. Up close, Yu can see individual beads of water as the flow down his neck, and the slight flush to his face from the sun already, but before he can formulate a way to break the sudden quiet that falls over them, Nanako’s voice rings out from the ocean, calling them both to attention.

“Big Bro,” Nanako calls, paddling in circles with Dojima behind her. “Come out farther!”

“Well,” Yu says, looking up at Adachi, the sun reflected across his skin. “We can’t tell her no, can we?”

Adachi looks at him sidelong, but doesn’t say no, and sooner than Yu can blink, he crawls into the depths of the water and dives into a near-perfect forward stroke, faster than Yu would ever give him credit for. Before he can think about what he’s doing, he dives in after him, pushing his legs to catch him until they’re neck and neck and racing towards the rest of Yu’s family. By the time they’re out to where Nanako is, Adachi’s out of breath when he comes up for air, and Yu has just barely beat him to the mark.

“Too slow,” Yu teases.

Dojima and Nanako are caught in the crossfire when Adachi retaliates with another wave of water at Yu, and the look Dojima sends him is more playful than harsh, but it still lets them know on no uncertain terms they probably shouldn’t continue to carry their feud out here, Nanako wiping at her eyes with an offended little pout as Adachi profusely apologizes to her. Yu can’t say whether it’s an accident that Adachi’s foot keeps pushing sharply at his leg underneath the water as he treads in place, but he knows it’s a little bit on purpose that he does the same, even as they keep everything clean above the surface.

They spend the better part of an hour like this, talking idly as they wade through the water, Nanako paddling around them in circles as she excitedly tells them about her school friends and plans for the summer. They stay until the sun starts to rise high in the sky and Nanako begins to tire and her words begin to fade out, leaving Dojima to make the decision to break into the cooler for lunch.

Despite Yu’s repeated offers to stay up and cook, they instead opted for a Junes trip, one that Nanako got to go on thanks to her own school already letting out for the summer. Yu spends the time listening to her regale it as if it were the most gripping saga as she explains the aisles upon aisles Adachi and Dojima humored her down.

After they finish up, Nanako declares, “I wanna build a sandcastle!”

“Alright.” Yu follows her out from the shade of the umbrella where she’s already started to bound over to the shore, crawling across the sand. “We’ll help, right?”

With only a mild sigh, Dojima rises to his feet. Adachi seems strangely unbothered by the prospect of sand, only letting himself pull a face when he passes Yu right up close, just quick enough for him to see. When Adachi settles down in the sand next to Nanako, he’s all smiles, stretching out his arms above his head with a yawn as Dojima sits down on Nanako’s other side.

“You two build on that side,” Nanako directs, like she already has this all planned out in her head. Adachi gives a little mock salute, knocking his knee into Yu’s. “Dad and I will start over here.”

“Aye, captain,” Adachi nods, all confidence, though Yu doesn’t miss that when he stares down at the sand, he looks like he quite doesn’t know what to do with his hands. Yu takes the point for him instead, starting by digging into the damp sand and clumping together a large ball of it, shaping it before setting it down onto where Nanako has already started clearing a base for the structure, as serious as Yu’s ever seen her.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yu catches Adachi watching him as he follows his lead on the next set of sand, mirroring Yu’s movements as he gathers his own with only a slight wince at how it’s probably settling underneath his nail beds. With all of them working diligently, they start to pile on another layer of sand to the base, Adachi’s knee still planted firmly against Yu’s as they work, neither with any real attempt to move it. Before they know it, they’ve managed to build a layer as high as their chests, packing handfuls of sand upon sand, and as soon as he’s confident the base is high enough to obscure the motion, Yu lets some of the sand he’s reaching for fall onto Adachi’s leg, laughing as he flinches back to avoid kicking the structure apart at the feeling of it against his skin.

“Jerk,” Adachi mutters, settling back into place as Dojima arches an eyebrow at him over the castle. “What was that for?”

“My hand slipped,” Yu says, taking the rest of the sand and patting it on top of the mound innocently. “Besides, you seem to hate it so much.”

Adachi pulls a face, but takes another impressively large handful of sand and adds it to the pile anyway. “It just gets everywhere.”

“We’ll get back into the water eventually,” Yu promises with a wink, bumping his own knee into Adachi’s this time to press it back together. He found he missed the feeling of it when it was gone—though it’s warm under the sun, his skin felt chilled in its absence, even from the small point of contact.

Adachi nudges him back, but says nothing, just diligently adds more to the castle. Before long, it’s up to their necks, and it’s then that Nanako decides it needs a much more castle-like appearance than simply a mound. She starts shaping the sand with her little hands, pushing it down and adding more as needed until she’s created the approximation of a spire jutting up from the sand, and with a triumphant grin, she turns to the rest. “Now you all make one!”

Yu’s already at work, digging deep into the wettest parts of the sand bank to shape his spire. At this side, Adachi does his own with a bit less precision, his tongue between his teeth as he tries to get the sand to stick in place. Eventually, he gets his to stand, and once Dojima manages the same, with a twirl, Nanako stands up to appraise her work, gesturing for everyone else to do the same. Adachi shakes the accumulated sand off his legs as he pulls up, steadying himself with a hand on Yu’s shoulder as he does before Yu can even get to his own feet. When he does, Yu has to admit he’s proud of their work—it not only looks like a castle, it’s nearly Nanako’s height, and although the sun is beating down afternoon rays now, the final product is certainly worth the time they spent.

“Well done.” Dojima claps his daughter on the back as she grins up at him, delighted in their accomplishment. “I say all this hard work deserves a reward, don’t you?”

Nanako’s face lights up even brighter, throwing her hands in the air. “I want ice cream!”

“Works for me,” Dojima says, ruffling her hair. Yu’s of the opinion he sometimes relies too much on days like this when he can do everything he normally doesn’t all at once, but it makes her so happy in the moment he can’t begrudge either of them too much for it. “We’ll go grab some if you two can watch the camp.”

Yu nods at that, elbowing Adachi in the ribs until he does the same and offers, “Yes, sir.”

“We’re off work. Drop the formalities,” Dojima dismisses, even though Adachi won’t, and he’s not even sure if Dojima really means it. He takes hold of Nanako’s hand and turns back up towards the shore, where foodstands line the boardwalk heading up.

Before they’re out of earshot, Nanako calls over her shoulder, “Don’t let anything happen to the sandcastle!”

“We won’t!” Yu yells after her as she waves behind. He turns, about to address Adachi, but before he can conjure his words, something wet and gritty runs down his neck and over his shoulders, a clump of sand dispersing down his back. He jumps at the cold, reeling back to find Adachi grinning with sand-covered hands, laughter in his eyes as he pushes at Yu’s chest.

“Payback,” he explains as Yu tries to brush at the sand on his back, reaching down for his own clump of sand to retaliate. Before he can even close his hands around it, two arms wrap around his waist and nearly squeeze the air out of him as he’s hoisted back up to his feet and swung around, Adachi’s breath in his ear. “Oh, no you don’t.”

Yu reaches back to push at him, but Adachi’s quicker, dragging him backwards several feet across the sand before tossing him in the water, Yu hitting the water back-first with a splash. He recovers before the waves can cover up his head, struggling to his hands and knees just enough to grab at Adachi’s ankle and send him tumbling right down with him, sputtering expletives as he goes. The force of it sends Yu tumbling back as well, and before he knows it, they’re on top of each other in the waves, both of them scrambling in a mess of limbs and shallow water until Yu rolls over and suddenly he’s underneath him on his back as the water licks up his sides, Adachi on hands and knees panting and laughing as he stares down at Yu doing the same.

It only lasts for a second, though, the magic of both of them lost in the moment and the laughter until the second their eyes meet and Adachi’s go stark wide, all trace of humor falling from his face as his lips part. They’re close, close enough that Yu can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his own. Adachi’s breath is hot as it ghosts across his face, and his eyes flicker down and linger on Yu’s lips before slipping lower down his neck and chest, then back up to catch his gaze again, just as Yu’s attention follows a similar path. Yu’s lungs are frozen mid-inhale, blood burning, and it’s then something seems to break as another wave crashes against them, Adachi scrambling off of him as the undertow catches his hands and he’s forced down at Yu’s side. The entire exchange can’t be more than a second, but it feels like ages by the time Adachi is spread out beside him, both of them half submerged and staring up at the sky.

“I don’t feel like I have less sand on me,” Adachi says, stilted. The entire world feels quiet, impossibly so.

“Whose fault is that?” Yu ventures, and Adachi just snorts, indelicate, before pushing himself forward to sink further into the waves, submerging his head underneath the water and closing his eyes. When he comes back up, he’s several meters out deeper into the sea, but Yu has no urge to follow him, keeping one eye on the tide as it creeps at the edge of the castle.

Whether or not he eventually would respond is swallowed up by Dojima and Nanako’s return, two extra scoops of ice cream in hand. The promise of a treat is enough to break whatever had fallen over them, Adachi swimming back to the shore to grab his portion and head back under the shade, Yu following him with slightly dazed steps.

With his back turned to him, Yu can see it clearly. The entire expanse of Adachi’s normally pale back is rose pink, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. “You’re burned.”

“Me?” Adachi turns around once he’s gotten his ice cream in hand, and Yu nods as he reaches for his own. “Oh well. It’ll be fine.”

Yu just takes a bite of his treat with a wordless sigh.

At least, with all of them around, it’s a comfortable silence that settles between them this time.

His sunburn is in fact not fine.

It’s a long drive back, long enough for them to be hungry for real food again by the time they reach Inaba, and despite Adachi’s vague answers that he’s really quite tired and will be fine on his own, thank you, Dojima insists on completing their mini-vacation by taking them all to Aiya, and that’s one thing Yu knows Adachi has trouble saying no to. Still, he fidgets uncomfortably all through dinner now that he has a shirt over his back again, continually reaching up to press at his neck and wince as they eat, uncharacteristically quiet through the meal. Yu doesn’t mind it all too much, though. He doesn’t quite know what to say either.

The sun is starting to set by the time they get back home, and Nanako is all but completely asleep in the backseat as they roll up into the driveway. Yu finds his own eyes heavy, too, but to his surprise, Adachi doesn’t immediately offer to head home, instead slinking past the threshold of the Dojima household with the rest of them.

After putting the cooler away and getting ample rounds of water for everyone, Dojima puts a hand on Nanako’s back as she rubs her eyes, yawning. “I think we’re heading off to bed early,” he says, giving Adachi and Yu a wave from where they stand in the kitchen. “You two can stay up if you want.”

“Night, boss,” Adachi waves as he takes a sip of water, standing uncomfortably straight with his back against the fridge. It’s silent until the click of both Nanako’s bedroom door and Dojima’s footsteps up the stairs fill the room. Only then does Adachi sigh and say, “Well, I should probably head home too.”

Yu frowns, looking him up and down. “We should do something about that sunburn.”

Adachi looks between him and the door, like he can’t quite decide which to take, but eventually, the pain seems to soften him, his shoulders slouching as he rounds forward. “We can do something?”

Yu nods, biting down a laugh at his pale-faced relief. “I have aloe in the cabinet. Go take a seat.”

He does as he’s told, making his way to the couch as Yu rummages around in the hall cabinet until he procures a small bottle of aloe vera from the back and returns to his side. Adachi’s sitting on the edge of the cushion, like he’s in an unfamiliar house rather than somewhere that might as well be a second home, but Yu just takes a seat next to him, gentle as he uncaps the bottle.

“Take off your shirt,” he directs, pouring some of the thick liquid onto his fingertips.

“Huh?” Adachi says, arching his brows wide before his eyes go heavy again, his lips parting and falling close. “Oh. Right.”

Turning from him, Adachi slinks his shirt over his head, ducking down as he gently peels it over his shoulders, wincing. It’s gotten even worse in the hours since Yu’s last seen it, the skin harsh and red in a way he’s sure will be peeling and tight for days. He sighs as he works the aloe in his hands. “You should have listened to me, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Adachi dismisses, and Yu can see his muscles go taut as he braces for Yu’s hand to touch his back. When it does, he jolts a bit at the contact and the cool liquid, inhaling a sharp, shaking breath before his body goes slack underneath Yu’s hands, melting into him with a sigh that wracks his entire frame. “Ugh. Feels weird.”

“If you had let me do this earlier, I wouldn’t have to do this now,” Yu reminds him as he presses a palm flat to his back, feeling the bones and the vertebrae all too close to the skin. He’s so thin, too thin, but he’s warm and alive to the touch, hot where his skin has burned. He works the aloe in over the worst of it with slow ministrations, but no matter how gentle, he can feel Adachi’s frame shaking underneath his hands, just slightly, like a tremor he can’t help. Yu smoothes a hand down his back, willing him still. “Sunscreen’s a lot less cold, and it wouldn’t be so raw.”

“I know that,” Adachi snaps, but it’s nothing more than air. He gives another shake underneath Yu’s touch as he moves and across his heavily burnt shoulder blades, scooting in just a bit closer for better reach. Adachi’s hands are braced on the couch, and Yu can see them clench and unclench against the cushion in time with his breath as it moves his tiny body, rising and falling underneath Yu’s fingertips. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“I do,” Yu says, deadpan. “For it to work.”

Adachi whips his head back around and glares at him, and Yu has to bite down the corners of his lips, averting his eyes. “Sorry.”

“You’re the worst,” Adachi sighs as he returns to staring at his hands. Even that motion seems to cause him pain, though, so Yu puts some more aloe on his hands and reaches up to get at his upper shoulders, pressing his fingers to the nape of his neck. The touch seems to quiet him for a second as his frame loosens, his voice barely audible when he says, “You don’t have to do this.”

Yu shakes his head, even though Adachi can’t see it. “It’ll feel better.”

His muscles are tight as stone where the tension pools beneath his hands, and Yu works his fingertips into them with just a bit more force than before, trying to smooth it out, when he brushes over what feels like a knot in between his shoulder and neck. He presses his thumb into the muscle and Adachi hisses, spine rolling up taut in a full-body wince, and Yu pulls his hands away, slowly. He barely gets a few inches of separation before Adachi is pushing back up into him, like despite the pain he’s chasing the sensation, and he lowers his fingertips back down to his skin, gentler this time but still firm.

“Sorry,” Yu apologizes again, but Adachi just shrugs, taking another uneven inhale. Every shift of motion echoes in the quiet of the room, and he’s afraid Adachi can hear the shake in his own breath, too.

Adachi’s silent for another long moment as Yu works his hands into the muscle of his shoulder, the aloe beginning to finally absorb into his skin. He traces his thumb down another line of swollen muscle, and Adachi tenses again, voice a bit strained when he whispers, “Lower.”

Yu complies and follows the tendon down until whatever pressure he’s applying makes him nearly moan, letting out a choked out, uneven sound that he swallows back before it can fully escape, but even that shoots something heavy and deep in Yu’s stomach, his chest churning as he breathes in and holds his thumb at the place that’s made him writhe, counting to ten.

“How’s that feel?” Yu asks low, smoothing his hand over where he’d pressed in a gentle circle and returning to the bottle of aloe to put another thin layer over it.

Adachi nods, slowly. “Better.”

He works down lower, feeling Adachi’s spine curve into the touch rather than away from it this time, like a cat arching its back. There’s less of his skin that’s burned here, but he still feels the need to move over the expanse of it, the unburned parts still pink from the sun. He closes his eyes as he goes, letting his fingers linger in the caress just a little longer than he needs to, and when he opens them again, he’s staring down the narrow column of Adachi’s neck, lips inches from the top notch of his spine. Deliriously, in the stretch between where his hands rest against him and Adachi breathes into his touch, he imagines crossing the infinitesimally small space and pressing his lips to the bone, and it takes everything in him to lift his head back up again, spinning.

Underneath him, Adachi has stilled, pressed into his hands, and it’s only then Yu realizes he’s the one that’s frozen, stalling at the small of Adachi’s back. He presses his thumbs to either side of his spine, gentle, and rubs in the last of the aloe.

“There.” Yu pulls his hands away, because he’s suddenly afraid of what he might do if he doesn’t. “That should do it.”

Slowly, Adachi presses a hand to his shoulder, some of the thick aloe rubbing off as he examines it, smoothing it across the pads of his fingertips. Quietly, he says, “Thanks, Yu.”

Yu swallows past the lump in his throat, and doesn’t look him in the eyes. “Don’t mention it.”

Chapter Text

With the final clack of a pencil dropping down onto a wooden desk, Yosuke throws his hands up in the air, hollering triumphantly before collapsing down into a pile on top of his papers, sprawling out. “We did it,” he declares, muffled by his essay. “We made it!”

It’s only with Yosuke’s outburst that Yu himself feels the tests are fully and truly over, setting down his own pencil with an exhale and stretching. He holds out his hand in a silent offer to take their papers to the front, and once all four have been stacked up, he places them on Kashiwagi’s desk and spins on his heel to find Yosuke already up and on his feet, hands braced on his desk.

“We’re going out,” he announces, authoritative as he looks between the three of them. “All of us.”

Before anyone can offer anything further on that, a flash of white and yellow appears out of the corner of Yu’s eye. In-between the bustle of actual students, Teddie has found himself in the hallway, hand wrapped around the doorframe of their classroom and peering in with bright blue eyes.

Yosuke opens his mouth like he’s about to continue, but Yu just points behind him, drawing his attention away. His eyes go wide when he sees their visitor, hand at his temple. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Are you guys done yet?” Teddie says over Yosuke, scanning the room with his nose upturned.

Yosuke mutters something about him not even looking like a student, but it’s lost underneath another boisterous voice entering from the hallway. Kanji shoves the classroom door the rest of the way open to make room for him and Rise, Teddie sliding through between them. “Hell yeah we are!”

Rise makes her way over to stand behind Yu’s desk, bracing her hands on his chair and leaning forward, her pigtails tickling his shoulders. “What’s this about going somewhere?”

“To celebrate,” Yosuke explains. “It’s practically a requirement after that torture.”

Yukiko zips up her backpack, shoving her books unceremoniously back into place. “Where should we go? Okina?”

Chie throws her head back. “We always go to Okina.”

“Ooh,” Rise crows, wrapping herself around Yu’s shoulders and tilting forward. “What about the beach? We could see each other in our swimsuits, senpai.”

Teddie’s eyes sparkle. “The beach,” he whispers with a far-off, mesmerized look. “A wondrous land I’ve only heard of in lore… an endless palace of sand and waves…” He drops his voice as he tapers off, fuiritive. “I’ve been told there’s even ice cream there!”

“There is,” Yu agrees, watching as Teddie’s face breaks into shock and awe. “I just went, but I don’t mind going again.”

Yosuke nods along, thoughtful as he scratches at his chin with a smile. “The beach,” he agrees, snapping his fingers. “That’s great, yeah. Perfect place to scope for chicks, too.”

No one dignifies that with a direct response, so Yu clears his throat and asks, “Does that work for everyone?”

“Sounds great to me,” Kanji agrees as the girls echo a chorus of the same, Teddie nearly jumping out of his skin in an effort to voice his assent.

Yosuke grins, some of the tension that’s clearly been with him all finals season slowly beginning to drain. “We can invite our other friends, too,” he suggests, scanning across the group as they nod. “It doesn’t have to be just us.”

Rise nestles her chin on top of Yu’s head. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

With the instructions to track down whoever else is still around in the building, they split up, each with the mission of bringing back a different member of their increasingly large rotating cast of friends. Luckily for them, no one has had the chance to leave just yet, and they manage to find the entirety of their study group from the other day, and Yu promises to grab Marie on their way out of town. He had planned to anyway, but at Rise’s insistence, there was no way he could say no. Even if the beach isn’t strictly her thing, he’s glad to give her another chance to see everyone.

With everyone now loosely gathered, Yosuke cheerfully leads the group down to the parking lot where everyone’s scooters and bikes are kept, their chatter filling the midday summer air. It’s a calm, clear afternoon, humid but not stifling: the perfect beach weather with just a slight breeze rolling through Yu’s hair as he fastens his helmet and slings his legs over the seat of his scooter.

He’s surrounded, full of his friends' laughter as they all do the same, but something pricks at the back of his neck as he leans over his handlebars—just a quick, sharp sensation, but unmistakable.

He turns around, almost sure he’ll see a pair of wandering eyes that have rested on him for too long, but when he looks over his shoulder, there’s nothing but a lot filled with bustling students and staff who couldn’t be paying him less mind if they tried. He shakes his head, but the sensation stays. By the time everyone else has readied themselves, he’s almost forgotten about it entirely, but when he hits the open road after picking up Marie and collecting his things from home, he feels it again, like the sky itself has him in his crosshairs. As the air of the highway starts to hit his face, he shakes it off.

It wouldn’t be the first time his imagination ran away from him.

Shichiri Beach is even more lively the second time around.

With all of his friends there, it’s the liveliest he’s ever seen it. Their group takes up a handsome piece of real estate on the shoreline, with more than half a dozen towels sprawled out all in a row haphazardly underneath a few umbrellas. Most of what they brought comes from Yosuke’s house, who had enough extra materials for almost everyone, and the final result is a certifiable takeover of the beach. With all of them together on the sand, the entire section of the shore might as well be theirs alone, all of the other beachgoers giving them a wide berth.

At first, Yu is content to just lay back and observe. He’s already gotten his fill of the waves, and although he’s gotten his fill of the sun, too, he uses it as an excuse to lay in one of Yosuke’s beach recliners up near the middle of the shore, sunglasses over his eyes. He didn’t think for a second he’d be alone, though, and sure enough, Marie and Rise each pull up the other two recliners at his side—Marie to hang back from the crowds presumably, and Rise almost assuredly to ensure that each of them cannot escape alone. He doesn’t mind the company, lathering up with sunscreen as they talk over him.

“Oh!” Rise exclaims at the sight of the bottle in Yu’s hand. “We need to do that, Marie.”

Marie eyes the bottle warily, pulling a face. “I don’t like the texture.”

Rise cocks her head to the side and deposits some into her hand without breaking eye contact with Marie. “What do you mean?” she asks, blinking at her innocently. “You’ll burn.”

Yu isn’t even sure if that’s technically true, and neither is Marie by the look they share—whether or not her body responds to the elements like a normal human being has yet to be seen—but unfortunately for her, the apprehension in her eyes is the perfect bait for Rise, who uses the break in her concentration to spring forward up over Yu’s chair and towards Marie’s, holding out her hand with a giant glob of sunscreen deposited into it with a wicked grin. Marie’s faster than she expects, and Rise narrowly misses her back before Marie is out of her chair and bolting, running for where Teddie is sitting and getting his own sunscreen applied by a very patient Yosuke.

On foot, though, Rise is a hair faster, and Yu laughs behind his hand as she tackles her to the sand with a triumphant yell, sending them both nearly crashing into Teddie before Yosuke hauls him back. Most of the sunscreen is lost into the sand, but Rise takes what remains and rubs it into Marie’s shoulders despite her groans of protest, letting up from where she’s wound up straddling her only when she’s satisfied with her work. When Marie comes up again, she’s beet red and sputtering angrily at Rise, who just laughs and puts more sunscreen on her hand, wiggling her fingers ominously.

That sends them on another wild chase across the sand, and in their absence, Yu stirs at the sound of the chairs beside him moving again, this time for Yukiko and Chie to sit down on either side of him in their color-coordinated swimsuits.

“They left their seats unattended,” Chie shrugs as they slide onto the recliners. “Finders keepers.”

“Losers weepers,” Yukiko agrees with a sagely nod, tossing her hair behind her neck as she settles in. “We only have so much sun around here, you know. Vitamin D is important.”

Yu doesn’t mind their company by any means, either, but still, he has to ask, “Don’t you want to go out into the water?”

Chie shrugs. “We will in a minute,” she explains, crossing her legs. “Figured we’d see what’s up with you, first. Why aren’t you out in the ocean?”

The others have slowly started to gather towards the water, Teddie and Yosuke bounding up to join Naoki and Kanji, along with Ai and Yumi, who have already started their journey into the waves. Kou and Daisuke aren’t far behind, laughing and chatting as they make their way down the shoreline. With Rise and Marie finally ending their game, both covered in sand and flushed but with streaks of white sunscreen all over Marie’s arms and legs, it’s only the three of them and a mid-sunscreen Saki lingering up higher, even though their area had been full almost a minute ago.

“I will soon,” Yu replies, adjusting his sunglasses. “I just wanted to watch first.”

Yukiko giggles at that, pressing her fingertips to her lips as she fans herself with a fan she’d brought from the inn. “That sounds like you.”

Chie snorts in agreement, kicking her legs absently. “No kidding.”

Yu looks between them while out of the corner of his eye Kanji sheds his outer swim trunks for a speedo, much to Yosuke’s abject horror. It prompts titterings of laughter from both the girls at his side, but before long, both of their focuses are back on him, and it makes him feel strangely pinned. He’s always been aware of their combined force as a unit, but rarely is it ever so turned on him. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” Yukiko says, and to his surprise, it doesn’t sound like there’s anything behind it, either. “You’re just a very observant person—I think it’s admirable. It seems to be natural for you.”

Chie hums, tapping her fingers across her arms as she looks up to the sky, squinting in thought. It took them a while to leave town proper, and the sun is now low in the horizon and getting lower by the minute, bathing the beach in its golden glow. “I think what Yukiko means is that you can be kinda… I don’t know, detached?” She scratches at her chin, frowning. “That’s not the right word, because that makes it sound bad, and it isn’t. I think I thought it used to be that you were detached, but now I think you’re just… observant, yeah.”

Yukiko smiles at her, a little bit teasing, but mostly warm. “So what I said.”

“Kinda,” Chie shrugs, shifting the cross of her legs with a huff. “I think what I mean is… You’re kinda quiet, and at first, I think that made you hard to read and open up to. But now, I think we all understand that you’re actually really present, and that’s just how you are.”

Yu’s still struggling to keep up from where this thread started, but he’s touched all the same, warmth spreading up through his chest. “Thank you.”

Yukiko laughs again, absently, like she wasn’t aware it would be out loud. She shakes her head when she feels Yu’s eyes go towards her, explaining, “We thought it was funny, just now. Taking everyone to the beach and then sitting back and watching just seems like something you would do.”

“But still,” Chie asserts, waving a finger in Yu’s face. “You can’t hang out on the fringes. We won’t let you.”

“I appreciate the concern,” Yu says, pushing himself to sit up straight and cross his legs. “But I wasn’t planning on staying here long. Just looking, really.”

Before the two of them can drag him away on their own, another voice rings out from the water, calling over the shore. “Yu! Saki! Come out here!”

Yu looks up to see Yosuke waving him down from the water, splashing with his movement. Naoki is at his side, waving at his sister over Yu’s shoulder, and he turns to see the elder Konishi sibling slowly rise to her feet, eyebrows raised.

“Looks like you’re being summoned.” Chie elbows Yu in the side of his arm, harder than necessary to get the point across. “You better go.”

Yu meets Saki’s eyes as he gets to his feet and shrugs, offering her a small smile as they head down to the beach. For perhaps the first time ever, she returns it, slight but genuine, and when she sees the light on her brother’s face, it brightens even further, her steps a bit faster as she makes her way to the waves. As soon as Yu aproaches the edge, Yosuke runs right up to him and swings his arms around his shoulders, and Yu bends with the force.

“Come on, get in,” Yosuke sings, pushing them both forward into the water. With a shove from Teddie, Yu’s sent stumbling back into the water, the waves all but swallowing up Yosuke’s hasty, “Sorry!”

Yu comes up for air within seconds, too refreshed by the slight cool of the water to be anywhere close to mad. Teddie sticks his tongue out at him before diving underneath the waves with a holler, swimming in between Kanji’s feet and sending him in a comedic, bumbling dance in surprise that prompts a roll of laughter from everyone in the vicinity.

Teddie grins apologetically, but doesn’t seem to have any shame for how he splashes Yosuke and Kanji repeatedly as he swims around them in circles. “I want to make a sand castle!”

“You do that, then,” Kanji grumbles, rubbing water out of his eyes. Another kick from Teddie’s rudimentary backstroke just ruins his work, though.

“You’re going to help me!” Teddie declares, grabbing onto his arm before Kanji can react or object and holding on even as Kanji lifts him out of the water as if he were nothing but a sack of potatoes, dangling above the water. “Come on!”

Despite his grumbling, Kanji doesn’t object, and nor does Rise when Teddie declares he needs another, more beautiful assistant. To his surprise, instead of floating back over to where Yu is standing, Marie gets swept up in the conversation Rise was having with Ai and Yumi instead, remaining in their orbit even as she occasionally casts unsure looks back at Yu. For his part, he stays with the Konishis and Yosuke, floating in the water as the waves move through his body.

“It’s cool we’ve gotten to know each other,” Yosuke says in the silence once Teddie and his whirlwind of noise and chaos have moved to the shore, taking the centerpiece of conversation and attention with him. “Like, all of us.”

Saki hums, wringing some water out of her long, curly hair. “You’re not that bad, it turns out.”

“You make it sound like a revelation,” Yosuke mutters, and Naoki sticks his tongue out at him a little, kicking at him under the water. The playfulness looks a bit foreign on his dour features, but they’re more and more natural lately, especially in a group like this. “I’ve been the same!”

“Just takes some getting used to, then,” Saki remarks with a shrug, before her hands fall from her hair and a more serious look falls over her features, thin lips pressed together. “I’ve never gone to the beach with friends like this. It’s nice.”

Naoki’s expression mirrors hers, almost as if they were twins rather than just siblings in its exactness. “Neither have I.”

Yosuke looks between them with a soft sort of confusion, like something is just sliding into place, and it breaks into an easy smile after a beat. “Well.” He gives a mock bow. “We’re glad to provide.”

Naoki opens his mouth to respond, but whatever it is gets swallowed up by the splash of a volleyball hitting the water in between the four of them, followed by Chie’s yell of, “Sorry!”

Chie and Yukiko stand on the sand staring at them with apologetic looks, Yukiko blocking out the sun as she waves over to them. “Do you mind tossing that back?”

It drifts closest to Yu, so he takes hold of it, spinning it in his hands and using it to gesture to the set of community nets further down the beach. “You guys playing volleyball?”

“Wanna join?” Chie offers, holding out her hands for Yu to toss her the ball, which he does perfectly, to his credit, though Naoki has to duck to avoid getting hit. “We could get a whole game going.”

And that’s exactly what they do, managing to pull everyone away except for Teddie and his assistants to form two teams, with Ai and Yumi as the referees, since neither of them have any interest in getting covered in sand. Yu finds himself with Yukiko, Marie, Daisuke, and Saki on his side of the net facing Yosuke, Kou, Naoki, and Chie on the other, and with the only rule to not let it touch the ground, the game is off, a hectic array of legs and arms and kicked-up sand as everyone vies for the dirty, roughed-up volleyball from Yosuke’s shed.

Everyone is surprisingly competitive despite the utter lack of structure, and eventually, even Ai and Yumi seem to get bored of standing on the sidelines and meet each other on opposite sides of the net, Ai knocking into Kou’s side to give her room in the formation as Yumi settles in beside Yu, reading her arms with a slight nod towards him. After that, they lose track of the score entirely, and they go until the sun gets low on the horizon and their limbs begin to tire, Yosuke eventually holding up his hands and calling it a draw, despite objections from both sides.

They meander back to where Kanji and Rise are still assisting Teddie on what is now a certifiable sand mansion. It nearly towers above their heads sitting down already, and is about the length of an entire Teddie laying down. Teddie rises to his feet from where he’d been meticulously building a moat when they approach to show it off like a practiced realtor.

“Look what we’ve created,” Teddie exclaims, throwing his arms out wide and spinning around on his toes. “While you were busy tossing some dirty ball around, we made art!”

Both Kanji and Rise are focused entirely on their work, only looking up when everyone settles in around them—Kanji in the middle of sculpting a masterful spire while Rise collects more sand to add to their structure.

“This is culture over here,” Kanji agrees, his tongue between his teeth as he delicately adds a bit more sand to the top of his structure. “It’d look even cooler if you guys made yourselves useful.”

Rise huffs as she adds more sand to the mountain next to her that they’ve been drawing from to add to their creation, patting it down. It’s nearly up to her waist. “Imagine what it would look like if you all, too, dedicated yourself to a craft instead of acting like barbarians.”

Yu looks between all of them, a smile he can’t fight tugging at his lips. “I think we can do both.”

“Hell yeah we can,” Yosuke asserts, crossing his hands over his chest. “We’ll build the best damn sandcastle this beach has ever seen!”

The best, as a qualifier for what they sit down to create, is arguable, but they might certainly be in the running for the biggest. Exhausted, everyone is excited for the chance to sit down, and the structure is huge enough that their entire group can fit around it comfortably.

With everyone in charge of one area of the castle, it grows at an exponential rate, taking on a life of its own. As opposed to the rather organized and coherent structure the original three had created, each person has their own sort of artistic touch to the project, adding on their own flair as they pile on handfuls of sand upon handfuls of sand to the castle. As the minutes pass, Yu has to eventually rise to his knees to reach the top of it. By the time everyone seems to be satisfied with the time they’ve spent on their creation, it’s become an amalgamation of spires and towers where no two are alike, but combine to be something awe-inspiring in its scale if nothing else, taking up such a large section of the beach it might well be visible from the highway behind them.

Luckily, Ai brought a camera, and with some instruction from Yumi on the composition, snaps a picture at a wide enough angle to capture it in its full glory, everyone crowding around to ogle at their masterpiece. The tide will swallow it eventually, but for now, it’s a monument in its own right, and at least in some way, it’s memorialized.

The sun is on the horizon by the time they’re finished, painting the beach in a glow of orange and red, and that’s the cue for most of their friends to start to leave. Yu says his goodbyes as they begin to pack up and head back to their scooters until it’s just the Investigation Team that lingers behind, gathering underneath Yosuke’s large umbrella with their belongings as the sun fades.

Teddie, however, remains by the castle to watch it, just a few paces out from the umbrella, leaning on it with his arms crossed underneath his chin. Yu feels Marie’s eyes on the side of his face, and he turns, meeting them just in time to see her nod as she crawls out from underneath the umbrella towards Teddie, taking a seat at his side.

Their voices are quiet, but they’re close enough to hear, and as Teddie looks back to them, Yu gets the feeling he doesn’t exactly find the conversation private, either, settling so he’s facing them sideways.

“What’s on your mind, kid?” Marie asks, crouching down onto the sand.

Teddie groans, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s just…” he tapers off, looking up at the sky. “Everyone seemed to have so many memories of the beach, or just memories in general, and I feel out of place. Trying to remember mine just hurts, no matter how hard I try.”

Marie sighs and puts a hand to his shoulder, his face pinched and red on the verge of tears, and shakes her head. “It’s okay,” she assures him, worrying her thumb against the side of her index finger, almost as if her comb were between them. “I… Don’t remember a lot of stuff, either. Most things, really. So I felt kind of out of place too. But it’s okay, because if there’s two of us, we’re not alone, right?”

It’s more warmth than he’s seen her display willingly almost ever, and it pulls the corners of Yu’s lips up, that warmth resonating in his own chest. It seems to stir Teddie, too, his eyes a bit clearer when he looks up at her. “Yeah,” he sniffs, rubbing his nose. “You’re right.”

She pats him on the shoulder awkwardly. “We make new memories and we live in the moment. That’s what life is about.” Her eyes meet Yu’s over Teddie’s head, and his lips curl higher.

Then just like that, before the moment can linger, she puts a hand to his back and he stands up, heading back to where the rest of the team sits and settling in next to them, Marie taking her place back at Yu’s side once again. All together, they watch the sunset until they’ll be relying on the last rays of light to get home, and even though Dojima might kill him for taking the highway in the dark, Yu can’t deny that everything about the day felt worth every bit of what might come.

What comes the next day is rain.

It was on the forecast, but it still puts a damper on the first proper day of Summer, drenching any plans Yu might have to do much of anything but wait for the Midnight Channel. When it comes, as it always does, he sees nothing but a vague outline—much blurrier and less certain than all the initial silhouettes he’s seen so far—but he knows exactly who it is, because he knows exactly who he’s looking for.

He calls up the rest of the team, and they meet the next morning at Junes.

“So,” Yosuke begins, folding his legs. “I have no goddamn idea who that could have been.”

“Tell me about it,” Chie groans, sprawling her arms out over the table. “I kept staring at it and staring at it, but it was so generic it could be anyone.”

Yu opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get the words out, Adachi beats him to the punch. “I might have an idea.”

Adachi meets his eyes briefly across the table when Yu turns to stare at the side of his head, arching a brow just slightly as Yu nods at him and says, “I think I might, too.”

Rise’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Adachi leans back and tells them about Mitsuo Kubo—about the boy who came into the station with a so-called false confession regarding Rise and a certain teacher, and how he was laughed out of the room. Yu watches as his friend’s eyes begin to bulge and their eyebrows disappear beneath their hairlines, Yosuke’s hands turning into fists on top of the table. Yu jumps in here and there with details, but lets Adachi do most of the talking, and when he’s done, the rest of the team is staring at them with slack-jawed expressions, silent for a beat after Adachi’s done speaking.

Finally, Yosuke says, “Are you kidding me?”

“I wish I were,” Adachi sighs, raking a hand back through his hair. “Nothing I could do about it, either. That decision’s way above my head.”

Kanji raps his fingers against the table. “So there’s this guy that could be the kidnapper, and he’s just running around?”

“Yep,” Adachi confirms through gritted teeth. “Everyone’s basically forgotten about it since Rise came back all fine and dandy, too.”

Everyone’s eyes slowly float to Rise, whose face is scrunched in concentration, her arms crossed over her chest as she stares out at the table in thought. “I can’t remember if he’s the one who kidnapped me or not,” she laments. “I really can’t. I’m sorry. But I do know I saw him around some in the days before, though I saw a lot of people around at that time.”

“That’s something,” Yukiko hums with a finger to her chin. “But why was he on the Midnight Channel, then? As far as I know, he hasn’t been on TV.”

Adachi clicks his tongue, leaning forward over the table on his elbows. “Didn’t you see it? The news ran a segment about a false confession at the police station as part of a follow-up story on that teacher.”

Yosuke shakes his head. “We’ve been scanning for interviews and special appearances, not regular news segments.”

Now that Yu thinks about it, he vaguely remembers hearing something along those lines over dinner the other day, but just like Yosuke, those aren’t the type of news segments he’s been paying attention to. He feels his fists tighten from where they’re placed across his lap.

“Would that really be enough to appear?” Kanji asks.

“If it’s really Mitsuo, it must be,” Adachi shrugs, shifting at Yu’s side to where he can feel their hips brush together, only for a second before Adachi readjusts. “But then again, that’s just my best guess.”

Yukiko runs her fingers through her hair, lip between her teeth. “Do you think he’ll be the next victim?”

Yosuke leans back in his seat. “Well, the figure’s way blurry…” He shakes his head, bouncing his leg. “And usually victims are a bit clearer, even before they appear, right? Besides, Yu, weren’t you on the Midnight Channel once?”

“I was,” Yu agrees. That doesn’t mean nothing happened to him at all as a consequence, but he at least wasn’t kidnapped.

“Mitsuo was just mentioned on TV too,” Chie adds. “He didn’t appear, right?”

Adachi leans his head back, staring up at the sky to sigh before he looks back down across everyone at the table. “Well, let’s think about it this way,” he begins. “If the kidnapper is getting their cues from the Midnight Channel, there’s probably no way they’ll be able to tell it’s him from that picture alone. If that Kubo kid is the kidnapper, then we’ll deal with that when he makes his next move.”

“I haven’t felt anything in the TV world,” Teddie chimes in from across the table after being conspicuously quiet throughout the entire meeting. “So he must not be there yet.”

A quick look around the table shows everyone is on the same page, the trepidation in their eyes enough to convey everyone’s heistance in confronting this as head-on as usual. “We’ll reconvene in a few days,” he decides, and he can feel the rest of the group collectively relax into his words. “Just keep an eye on everything until then.”

Still, in the back of his mind, Yu can’t help but feel he’s the one being watched.

A few days pass, and everything is suspiciously quiet.

The TV World remains unoccupied, and in the real world, very little changes or shifts over the coming days of rain. Yu dutifully checks the Midnight Channel every night, but the picture remains as blurry as it was the first time, with no clarity to the silhouette that could give any further clues to the identity of the person in the center. Yu’s days remain busy around it, a flurry of social obligations and part-time jobs, and when he manages to finally get time to himself around the end of the week, he knows exactly how to best spend it.

He gathers his tackle gear and heads down to the riverfront, thin t-shirt already clinging to his body from humidity the second he steps outside. By the time he’s made his way to the floodplain, he’s almost used to it, slightly invigorated by the heat and dampness as he rounds the corner down the stairs.

It’s not empty today, however. A familiar thin man is sitting on the benches as he approaches, facing away from him towards the water with a book in hand. A smile tugs at Yu’s face, and though part of him mourns the chance to be truly alone, most of him is grateful for another opportunity to pick the brain of one Taro Namatame.

Surprisingly, Namatame turns before Yu can even open his mouth, pivoting around on the bench to look up at him as he descends the stairs, slight breeze blowing through his short hair. “Ah,” he greets with a little wave, thumbing his place in his book before shutting it closed. “It’s you again. Yu, was it?”

“Mr. Namatame,” Yu calls with a nod, pulling up to the side of the bench and adjusting the strap of his gear over his shoulder. “It’s good to see you again.”

A thin smile stretches at his hollow face, and he looks slightly worse for the wear since Yu saw him last, dark circles prominent under his gaunt eyes, but they light up with something genuine at the sight of Yu. “Likewise.”

“What brings you here?” Yu asks, rocking on his heels. “Just reading?”

“Just reading,” Namatame echoes, though he moves to fold both of his hands over the cover of his book, the exact page now lost to the others. “What about you?”

Yu gestures to the tackle bag underneath his arm and the rod over his shoulder. “Fishing,” he explains with a shrug. “Same as always. Want to join?”

Namatame’s eyes widen at that. “Really?”

Yu reaches into his bag and rifles around until his fingers close around the familiar spare collapsible rod he keeps inside for occasions such as these, pulling it out and presenting it once he’s unfolded it out to its full splendor. “If you’d like.”

Slowly, Namatame nods, sliding his book in his own shoulder bag before standing up, just slightly shorter than Yu. He takes the rod in his bony hands, turning it over with a cursory hum. “It’s been a while, so I might not catch much.”

“That’s alright,” Yu says, starting to make his way down to the docks. Namatame follows him after a few steps, and Yu leads them to the edge of the waterfront, taking a seat and swinging his legs over the side. Namatame does the same, leaning his pole between his legs and letting it rest baitless in the water as he waits for Yu to pull out the necessary items from his box. “It’s more about the experience, anyway.”

Namatame gives a small laugh at that, a little rusty sounding. “It is,” he agrees, pulling at his line and holding it up. Without missing a beat, Yu reaches into his jar of salmon eggs and puts a few on Namatame’s hook before he can object. “Thank you. I used to do this as a kid all the time growing up here, but I can’t remember the last time now.”

Yu hums, handing the line back, and Namatame casts it out into the water with a somewhat clumsy plop, but it sinks into the river all the same. In the quiet that follows, Yu does his own line and casts it out next to Namatame’s, bobbing with the current.

“This is nostalgic,” Namatame says after a moment of companionable silence that stretches longer than Yu keeps track of. “Thank you for letting me join you.”

“Of course,” Yu replies, ignoring a bite on his hook in favor of keeping the sense of peace that’s fallen between them. “It’s always nice with company.”

Namatame reels in his line and casts it out again with a bit more grace this time around, though he too is missing one of the pieces of bait from his hook. He doesn’t bother to replace it. After a minute, he breaks the silence again by saying, “I’ve seen you running around town a lot, now that I know what you look like.”

Yu shrugs. “I have a few part-time jobs. I like to keep myself busy.”

“Keeping busy is good,” Namatame replies gently, reeling out the slack from his line. “But be careful not to burn out your youth. I knew I wanted to be a politician, so I worked hard all through my school years, and it barely left me time for anything else. Looking back, I wish I had done more of… well, this. It’s the sort of thing I actually miss about Inaba.”

Yu often wonders if he’s burning through his youth in his own way, but he’s lived through the alternative it sounds more like Namatame is referring to, as well, and he’ll still take what he’s doing over endless academics. “I’m glad you seem to be finding the time to do it now.”

“Yes,” Namatame says with a stifled sigh, his shoulder slouching. “Peace cannot be underrated.”

Yu is quiet at that, and Namatame’s lips fall into a line as he, too, says nothing for a long moment. There’s a tug on his line somewhere in the silence, and Namatame fumbles for his pole to reel it in, but by the time he’s pulled it halfway to the shore, it’s managed to wriggle off his line and take the bait with it, Namatame shaking his head as he reels in an empty hook.

Yu reaches to bait it for him again, but Namatame bats his hand away gently to do it himself. “I was recently tracked down by a tabloid reporter from out of town,” he explains as he presses the eggs onto the hook. “He took a bunch of pictures of me on the clock while I was delivering. Wanted to know about my life in Inaba, my fall from grace, my relationship with Mayumi, the usual… It’s exhausting. I’d rather not think about any of those things, especially when they’re just going to sensationalize it for a story anyway. I tried to keep it brief, but I have no interest in seeing what they print. I should just warn you that it’s going to be out there.”

“I won’t think any differently of you,” Yu assures, waiting until Namatame makes eye contact with him to break his concentration. “I understand wanting to focus on moving on.”

Namatame’s eyes hold sincere gratitude, but there’s still something Yu has to know. “Do you ever speak to Ms. Yamano still, though?”

Namatame withers a bit at that, shrinking into himself a few degrees. “Occasionally,” he says, casting out his line again. “She’s trying to keep her distance for the sake of her career, and I’m trying to respect that, especially since the rumor mill has barely died down in the months since. It’s hard, but… It’s what’s best.”

Yu wants to say something, to offer an apology at least, but Namatame’s line bobs again, and this time, he’s quicker to react. He immediately reels it in, and the line stays heavy and wriggling right up until Namatame gets it close enough to yank up a respectable-sized trout on the other end of his hook. The sour expression that had fallen across his face clears up in an instant to be replaced with a laugh and a disbelieving smile, widening when he meets Yu’s encouraging expression of his own.

“Do you want to keep it?” Yu offers, but Namatame just shakes his head.

“We never kept them as kids,” he says as he gingerly pulls the hook out of the fish’s lip and carries it back down to the water, setting the pole aside as he leans down and guides the fish back into the stream where it swims away with the current. “I always felt bad.”

“That’s fair,” Yu replies as Namatame baits up his hook again, the air a bit lighter between them.

Still, it’s another short while before Namatame talks again, and when he does, he’s slow into his words, speaking a bit lower than before. “You know,” he begins, looking at Yu out of the corner of his eyes. “I finally remembered last night, I have heard of the Midnight Channel before.”

Yu goes completely still. “You have?”

Namatame nods, turning back to the river. “I think Mayumi mentioned it, or something like you described,” he explains. “But with everything that happened after we arrived in Inaba, I must have forgotten all about it. I just happened to think about what you said last night, so I turned it on, but all I saw was a blurry figure.”

Before Yu can properly synthesize this, the unignorable sensation of being watched is back, having mounted all throughout Namatame’s words and peaking now in the quiet, settling right between Yu’s shoulder blades. Unable to fight it, he turns around, and right at the top of the staircase is none other than Mitsuo Kubo, staring down at him with his dark eyes, caught like a deer in the headlights at the sight of Yu facing him. Clouds have gathered behind them now, dark and black, framing him where he stands.

Faster than Yu can stand, though, he bolts, dashing into the trees in the opposite direction down the floodplain, disappearing in a blink. He barely gets to twitch in his seat before Mitsuo is gone, and by the time Namatame turns, there’s nothing but the slight wind through the trees to look at as evidence anyone was ever there at all.

“What are you looking at?” Namatame asks, just as the skies begin to open up and drizzle down against the water of the river.

Yu’s heart is pounding in his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s from adrenaline, or relief Mitsuo’s in this world. Still, he says, “Nothing.”

The drops grow bigger and wetter across their faces as the clouds continue to break above them, and Yu begins to put together his tackle box just as Namatame says, “Well, we should probably call it a day, in any case.”

“Right,” Yu agrees, but even as he continues to pack up his bag and say his goodbyes to Namatame, he can’t stop looking at the place where Mitsuo Kubo stood, nor can he escape the eyes that crawl across his back every time he turns away from it.

He picks the newspaper up off the porch on his way home to flip through it, and sure enough, Namatame’s article is there. He leaves it on the table as he makes dinner for Nanako and himself, open to a different page, but after he’s made their tea and Nanako is settled in front of the TV for the night, Yu takes a seat at the kitchen table with his mug and turns it open to the indicated section, folding it over.

Namatame’s fears about its sensationalized nature appear to be true, and then some. The piece is less than flattering—depicting a conniving adulterer who abandoned his wife for another woman and threw away his entire career in the process, nevermind the amount of details that alone gets wrong—and Yu can barely stomach reading the whole thing before he shuts the paper with a huff, looking out towards the window. What was a drizzle earlier has now turned into a certifiable downpour, drenching the windows in fat streaks of rainwater.

It’s a fight to stay up until midnight, but he has to—even with confirmation that Mitsuo Kubo was still in the real world as of this afternoon, a lot can change in that timeframe, and even if nothing has, it’s still important to make sure it stays that way. He paces around his room until the clock turns over, listening to the rain on the windows to mark the time.

When he turns the TV on with a yawn, he has to rub at his eyes, so certain he’ll once again see the blurred-out image of Mitsuo that he’s positive what’s there instead must be a trick image. But even as he blinks it into focus, it’s clear something has changed.

Rather than the vague outline of a high school boy, the silhouette on screen is a much sharper image of what is clearly an adult man, skinny and slouched over and wearing a distinct blue uniform.

His phone rings, and he fumbles to answer it in time.

“Who the hell is that?” Yosuke asks, barely waiting for Yu to put the receiver to his ear before he speaks. “That sure doesn’t look like Mitsuo.”

Yu stares at the image until his eyes start to cross, until he can almost make out the features on Namatame’s face through the shadows, but perhaps it’s his own imagination. “No, it doesn’t.”

Yosuke shifts on the other end. “The image hasn’t ever changed before… has it?”

Yu shakes his head, because it’s not just true for this loop, but for all of them. In the center of the TV, Namatame’s outline sways absently, hunched over. “It hasn’t.”

“Do you have any idea who it could be?” Yosuke asks, and Yu silently weighs his options before deciding that it’s too delicate of a situation to hold back the truth when he knows it, and plausibly so.

“I think it’s the politician,” he hedges, studying the static-laden outline of his face where he can almost see his eyes pierce through the screen. “Taro Namatame.”

Yosuke sighs, and Yu feels it in his own bones. “Teddie still says there’s no one inside the TV, but let’s keep an eye on it.”

This is about the time he’d usually shut off the TV for the night, but something compels him to keep it on, even if nothing new can be gleaned. “Definitely.”

“I’ll tell the others,” Yosuke promises, and with a brief goodnight, the line goes dead, leaving Yu alone with the static and his own racing thoughts.

Within a few minutes, he finally reaches over to flick off the screen, the image growing too uncanny and too familiar to stare at much longer. In its absence, there’s nothing but the sound of the rain and the ticking of the clock to mark the time, and Yu slumps down into his futon, pressing his hands together.

No matter how much he hates it, there’s nothing to do but wait for the morning.

Morning comes, and it brings with it the fog, thick and heavy over the valley of Inaba.

Despite the oppressive mist that hangs over the skies, the telephone poles of the town stay empty, and Teddie continues to assure them that there is no one in the TV world, even as days pass underneath the fog’s hold. As Yu makes his way around town, he sees both Mitsuo and Namatame in the following days once or twice, even stopping Namatame to make sure he was truly okay, but nothing seemed amiss with either. It leaves Yu with yet a deeper mystery to contemplate as he moves through the clouds about his life, but the relief of the quiet, as eerie as it is, still settles deep in his bones, pushing him forward.

Who he doesn’t see, however, is Adachi.

Besides their brief stint at Junes to discuss Mitsuo, Yu hasn’t seen him at all since their day at the beach, and in the back of his mind on top of everything else, he’s trying not to think too much of it. It’s not like he isn’t prone to disappear out of Yu’s life for days on end in the first place—he’s quite used to Adachi’s haphazard schedule, either due to work or just seeming to need to be alone—but to say it doesn’t sting now of all times would be a lie, and by the end of the fog cycle, there’s a bit of worry attached to it, too.

He doesn’t hear of him at all until the last day of the fog, Yu wrapping up at his day-care job for the afternoon and making his way back home through the Shopping District. He waves to Marie as he passes by the Velvet Room door, but before he can continue on his way, she chases him down, flagging him on the other side of the street and pulling on his sleeve.

“We need to talk,” she declares, a serious look in her eye that tells Yu in no uncertain terms that it isn’t a question or an offer, but a demand. “Somewhere quiet.”

Yu peeks across the street into the shrine to find it empty, so he leads her past the entrance and over towards the grove of trees. This seems to satisfy her, and she leans up against one of the trunks, staring at Yu underneath the brim of her hat.

“Why are you letting him do this?” Marie asks, as if that sentence alone clarifies everything Yu could possibly need to know.

Yu settles against a tree opposite her. “Why am I letting who do what?”

“You know,” Marie sighs, a hint of frustration seeping into her voice. She rubs at her face, staring off to the side before sliding her gaze purposefully back to Yu. “Letting Adachi run around Yomi completely alone.”

Yu’s stomach drops out from underneath him. “He’s doing what?”

Some of the sharpness bleeds out of Marie’s eyes, replaced instead with a softer surprise, creased at the corners. “You mean he hasn’t been telling you where he’s going?” she asks, crossing her arms with a raised brow. “He gets as far as the cave sometimes.”

Yu flexes and coils his fingers at his sides, trying to chase the barrage of images out of his head—Adachi, his eyes cold and lightless, surrounded by the dark of the cave—and breathes, steadying himself. “No, I didn’t know.”

Marie hisses in through her teeth. “I came to give you a lecture, but it turns out it’s just more bad news, huh?”

“Yeah,” Yu agrees, easily. “It is.”

The look Marie gives him is sympathetic, but still lined with something worried and harder as she sighs and surveys him. “He’s not there right now, if it makes you feel any better.”

It’s a small consolation prize, considering he knows his schedule well enough to know it’s Adachi’s day off. It’s all too easy to imagine him in his apartment, staring at the blank TV and just itching to go inside, and a shiver runs up Yu’s spine, his hands moving to remove his apron before he realizes what he’s doing and shucking it in his bag. “I’ll talk to him.”

Marie blinks at him, peering at Yu as he rifles through his bag to zip it back up hastily. “Now?”

“It’s one of those things I feel like I shouldn’t waste time on,” Yu explains, and Marie just snorts, humorless and indelicate. “Thanks for letting me know.”

He thinks he hears a faint reply over his shoulder, but he’s out of the shrine before he can blink, making his way back down the hill towards Adachi’s apartment as fast as his legs can carry him in a walk. He knows the steps without even having to think about it. Despite not having traveled it that many times relative to anywhere else in the city, his body automatically carries him in the direction he needs to go until he’s staring down that imposing red door, half out of breath and heart pounding in his ears.

He reaches for the doorbell and counts his breaths as he waits, listening until he hears a faint rustle behind the door and padding footsteps in seemingly no hurry to reach the entrance. He tries to steady himself in the space it takes, but the hesitance between when he peeks through the hole and then finally, slowly opens the door knocks him back off his rhythm again, and by the time Adachi has managed to face him head-on in the threshold, Yu’s patience has run its course.

“Are you going into Yomi alone?” Yu asks, blurting the words out before Adachi can even get a greeting in edgewise. His eyes are sunken and dark, rimmed with deep circles that draw his face even thinner in the shadows, and he’s slumped over against the doorframe, dressed down to nothing but a t-shirt and boxer shorts.

Adachi looks at him wearily, but with a sharpness in the center of his eyes. It takes him a while to answer, but when he does, it’s a simple, clear, “Yeah.”

“Why?” Yu asks, crossing forward into the threshold of the door. “How?”

Adachi takes a step back and closes the door behind them when Yu follows him in, bracing his arm up against the doorframe over Yu’s head. Yu remains in place, staring him down as he tries to parse the look in his eyes, too shadowed by the darkness of his apartment to see clearly.

“My TV,” Adachi explains, gesturing behind him with his other hand towards the accursed television set Yu had placed on that shelf with his own two hands. “You’re not that special after all. I was curious where mine went, and it turns out it’s just another TV in that stack near the entrance. Imagine that.”

Yu gives him space to address his first question, but Adachi just stares at him right back, lips pressed together in an unreadable line, and still, Yu can’t see the color of his eyes. “It’s too dangerous to go in alone,” Yu presses, using the advantage of his height to loom over him. “Why wouldn’t you at least tell me? What if something happened?”

“You’re not my mother,” Adachi reminds him, and it feels like a slap in the face despite the distinct lack of venom in his voice. Yu winces all the same, and at the sight of it, Adachi pulls his arm back, slinking further into the apartment and catching some of the light from the window. No matter how many times Yu blinks and changes the angle, his eyes remain a striking dark steel. “Besides, you know as well as I do, there’s a draw to that place. Maybe you’re okay with not knowing what it is, but I’m not.”

Yu follows with another matching step closer in, hands balled at his sides with a slight tremor to them he can’t control. “That doesn’t mean you have to endanger yourself.”

“Please,” Adachi dismisses with a flick of his wrist, refusing to make eye contact with Yu straight on and instead looking somewhere over his shoulder, shrugging. “I’ve been fine. I’ve even mapped out part of the cave system—you’re welcome, by the way. I’ve gotten pretty far on my own, you know.”

The full implication of just how long Adachi must have already spent in there hits him, and he steps into Adachi’s space once more, counting it as a victory when Adachi doesn’t immediately recoil back from him and stands his ground. “You should go with me,” Yu insists, feeling something uncomfortable and hot boil up inside him. “Or tell me, at the very least.”

Adachi’s face contorts and changes on a dime, and he presses back, leaning up on his toes until they’re eye to eye. “Stop playing dumb,” he snaps, the force of his words knocking Yu off balance with their proximity and intensity. “We both know that something’s fucking wrong with me, okay, so stop acting like there’s not. You know why I haven’t invited you? Because I tried to kill you last time, and I don’t remember any of it!”

Yu puts a hand up, but doesn’t attempt to put any space between them. “That’s not…”

“That’s not what?” Adachi demands, his hands flying to Yu’s shoulders. The touch is warm, but it shakes Yu all the same. “That’s not a good enough reason? The hell it isn’t, you’re not the one with something living inside of you. If you haven’t noticed, Yu, that thing wants to hurt you, and do I look like the type of person that can afford another serious failure if something happened to you in there?”

Yu shakes his head even though it’s pointless, their faces so close that some of his fringe brushes against Adachi’s forehead. “I would be okay.”

“Yeah?” Adachi squeezes down on his shoulders just once before he releases them, hands to his own hips as he leans back and straightens up. “And I’ve been okay too, alright? The Shadows barely even mess with me, so if I don’t engage, I don’t have to fight. Besides, you really should be thanking me for the maps. I think I’ve figured out a way that leads to an inner sanctum, or maybe a new area—but I haven’t gone that far yet, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

Yu can feel the distance he’s trying to put between them, and he just sighs into it. “Please,” he begs, reaching for Adachi’s wrist before he can think the better of it. “Don’t go there without me.”

Adachi looks down at where Yu’s hand wraps around his wrist, then back up at Yu, and politely shakes him off. “I’ll try, but I’m fine, okay? Let it go, Yu.”

He has no intention of doing that—nothing about this conversation has convinced him to let this go at all—but he seals his lips shut anyway, turning his eyes away. “Okay.”

In the silence that follows, Adachi yawns and stretches wide, putting a hand to his mouth to mask the sound. “Anyway,” he drawls after another beat. Yu’s not quite sure what to do with his hands or how well he’s hiding his intention across his face. “I was gonna get takeout. You can stay and join if you want.”

Whatever Yu was expecting to come out of his mouth next, it was more or less the opposite of that. He cocks his head at him, and before Yu can reply, Adachi rolls his eyes and continues. “I mean, I was going to order something anyway. Besides, it’s getting late. Didn’t you work today? Daycare or something?”

Yu is surprised Adachi remembers that, and a little touched, despite his frayed nerves. “I did.”

“So, yeah,” Adachi tosses over his shoulder, disappearing into his kitchen to procure a takeout menu from Aiya off the counter, tossing it towards Yu as if he doesn’t have the whole thing memorized backwards to front. He catches it with some grace, Adachi looking at him out of the corner of his eye. “Stay or not. Whatever. It’s up to you.”

Yu stays.

He calls the rest of the Investigation Team, sans Adachi, to Junes the next day.

Once he’s sat them all down across the table, he looks at them, folds his hands, and says, “We need to talk about Adachi.”

The others trade looks between themselves wordlessly for a moment before Yosuke asks, “What about?”

“I don’t know if it’s just something I see because I see more of him,” Yu begins, choosing his words with some care. “But something’s obviously wrong with him. There’s times he’s not himself.”

The expressions each of them give each other change in nature a little, folding into something a bit more serious.

“No, we’ve noticed,” Yukiko hedges after a beat of silence, looking at Yu gently. “We don’t know him as well as you do, so we haven’t wanted to say anything, but we’ve all known something’s been off lately.”

It at least makes what he’s about to say an easier sell to already have them on the same page. He nods, a mix of relief and discomfort washing over him at the admission. “It’s… getting worse. He’s been going into Yomi alone.”

Kanji whistles low through his teeth. “That’s dangerous.”

Yu slumps lower in his seat, just a little. “That’s what I said.”

“Now that you mention it,” Teddie begins, raising his hand high up to get the attention of the table like it’s a class. Once he’s satisfied with the amount of eyes that have turned to him, he lowers it, rocking forward in his seat. “I have felt something in the other world sometimes, but I feel lots of disturbances in Yomi all the time. It didn’t feel like a person.”

Nothing about that is particularly comforting. “I think we need to act.”

“It’s about time,” Yosuke comments crossing his arms behind his head. “I’ve been wondering when one of you’d say something about it.”

Yu blanches. “Sorry,” he says, genuine. There’s no shortage of reasons he’s kept it mum, but none of them feel adequate in the moment. “I didn’t know if confronting it would be worse, but I don’t think we have any other option.”

“I’m talking more about him than you,” Yosuke assures with a wink, nudging Yu a little from his perch at his right hand side. “He’s the one that’s been suffering through it in silence. But we’ve got his back, yeah?”

The rest of the table emphatically agrees, and Yu’s heart rises, just a little, as he leans forward and tells them the plan.

They make their way down to Yomi the next night.

Yu makes sure to time it right so that they arrive just before Adachi gets off from work, with some time to spare before he’ll inevitably arrive, if his visits are as frequent as Yu believes they are. Sure enough, they barely have to wait long at the entrance at all before the second TV in the stack lights up behind them and Adachi begins to crawl through, his eyes going sharp the second he stumbles out onto the ground to see them all standing before him.

“What the hell are you kids doing here?” Adachi asks, and immediately, the tone of it already sets Yu on edge. It’s metallic and laced with something deeper than Adachi’s own voice, and although his eyes haven’t flipped color yet, they’re darker than his normal irises and swirling with the greens from the trees around them.

Yu refuses to take the bait, pressing his lips together as his sword hand twitches. “What are you doing here?”

“You know what I’m doing here,” Adachi counters, but it’s not quite him, that much is clear. Whether he came here already not himself or if it happened when he crossed the threshold, Yu can’t tell, but either way, there’s nothing familiar in his stance, straight-shouldered and arms crossed. “I told you what I do here already, don’t you remember? There’s something at the center I’m trying to get to. Something I think you’ll like.”

His words leave an icy caress across Yu’s skin, a chill running up his spine at the way they curl around him, lurid. It seems to have a similar effect on everyone else, the rest of the team tense and quiet in his presence, silent as they wait for Yu to speak, but he feels equally caught in the spider web of Adachi’s darkened aura.

“Come now, Yu,” the monster inside of Adachi goads, eyes flashing a brilliant, soulless yellow. “It’s something all of you will want, something all of humanity desires. Humans crave a utopia, a blissful ignorance. You know all about that, don’t you?”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Kanji demands from somewhere over Yu’s shoulder, but he just flexes out his fingers and holds up a hand to the others who begin to stir behind him, taking in a breath.

Part of him knows it’s maybe pointless, especially here where the Sagiri seems to have such complete control over him, but he still has to try. “Adachi,” he says, trying not to make it sound quite as much of the plea that it is. His eyes flash again. “We talked about this, remember? In the park. Ignorance isn’t what we desire, we both know we want something better than that.”

This time when Adachi’s eyes change, they show his normal color in between shades of yellow, and he winces, visibly like he’s been struck, clutching at the side of his temple as he buckles over slightly. Emboldened, Yu continues, taking a gentle step closer into his orbit. “All of us are here because we fought for the truth head-on and won,” he insists, the others quiet behind him as they let him talk, perhaps a silent agreement that Yu is the one that should handle this. He tries to ignore the slight tremor in his legs. “Because that’s what we want, not what’s easy.”

Adachi reels back a step and doubles over, his other hand flying up to hold at his face like there’s a ringing in his ears. He shakes his head, hard, and when he speaks, his words sound like they’re forced out with all the effort he has. “I want to believe that,” he whispers in between panting breaths. He winces again, and his voice is clearer, but not in the way Yu wants. “But Yu—kid—don’t you want a reward for all that work? Happiness, rather than just more and more bullshit?”

“I am happy,” Yu says, because it’s the truth. “As long as I have everyone here, I can be happy.”

Adachi barks out a harsh bit of laughter at that, but it’s toothless, tired in his throat. “You make me so fucking sick,” he sighs, but there’s a warmth to it that Yu can’t deny, one that makes him take another step forward along with the creased look in his dark eyes, softer and clearer than before.

He reaches out, maybe to steady him, maybe just to see if a touch could anchor him further back into his body, but just as his hand moves to brush against Adachi’s shoulder, the skies break, and black clouds descend from up above to envelop Adachi in their cloak of darkness, swirling and menacing in a tornado spiral as it takes him over completely, pushing Yu back several steps with the force to knock him off-balance.

“Pathetic,” the voice of Ameno-Sagiri booms from inside the black fog, spiraling and growing into a wider and larger column above all of their heads, sprawling towards the forest. “I can no longer stand to watch this charade.”

The fog lessens just enough at the base of the column for Yu to see Adachi’s body collapse onto the forest floor like a ragdoll before being lifted up into the clouds and disappearing back into the smoke, several of the others surging forward next to Yu to try and break their way into the fog, but it’s no use, the wind it’s creating too strong to even attempt to approach the vortex. Slowly, the fog begins to coalesce, rising up to the tops of the trees as the force of the wind rips the branches from their trunks, pine needles dancing around in the air like vicious rain as they fall down to shouts from the team. The dark skies form a circle above in the clouds, and finally, out of the fog comes the true, monstrously large form of Ameno-Sagiri, the giant eye towering above their heads and destroying what’s left of the bare trees with its corporeal body, sending trunks and branches crashing down around them as it hovers in the sky.

“Okay, now really what the fuck,” Kanji insists, dodging a pine branch.

“I am Ameno-Sagiri,” the eyeball declares, its technicolor lens flickering as it watches each of them, its focus finding each member simultaneously. “The bearer of the fog awakened by man’s desires. You are arrogant, claiming to speak for all of humanity when you yourselves fight for a so-called truth that is warped and broken.”

Yukiko gasps as she reaches for her weapon. “This thing was inside Adachi?”

“Holy shit…” Yosuke trails off, holding his knives tight.

“The world’s erosion cannot be stopped,” Ameno-Sagiri continues, the lens swirling around methodically. “All will become Shadows, and you, who stand in the way of a blissful peace for this world, will be eradicated. Mankind’s collective unconscious desires have created this hollow forest of fog, and your world will come to be enveloped inside of it. It is an inevitability.”

“Like hell it is!” Chie yells, her Persona manifesting behind her as the rest follow in suit. “We don’t want any of that!”

“Humanity does,” Ameno-Sagiri counters evenly, twitching, but not readying any of its weaponry. “Humanity desires a world shrouded in fog, a peaceful world, and I am the source of it. Mankind’s desires are my desires. I bestowed upon you the power to come into contact with this world, and though you have done well to stir the chaos and push the people’s hearts towards the fog, this ends now. Those who inhibit humanity’s destiny for a world of blissful falsehood must be removed.”

“This is what gave us the power to enter the TV?” Yukiko says, brows arching wide. It’s so second-nature to Yu that he almost forgets to pull the same faces of shock and awe as everyone else, too busy summoning Izanagi over his shoulder with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

“Enough with this!” Yosuke insists, stepping forward and waving his arm out. “I don’t care what power you gave us or what you created! We’re not your pawns, and we’re not going to be a part of your screwed-up desires!”

Kanji is the first to spring forward, a bolt of lightning surging out from Yu’s left and striking in the center of Ameno-Sagiri’s eye. The monster twitches in fits and starts as it turns to him slowly, blinking once, before the eye passes him again and pivots straight back to Yu.

The world goes black, just for a blink, but when Yu opens his eyes again, lava is pouring down from the sky, and the fight is on.

They’re not nearly as strong as they usually are by the time they get to this fight, and it immediately shows. What’s usually not too difficult of a fight when they reach it at the end of the year proves absolutely grueling now, with Yu doing a significant amount of heavy lifting in terms of healing and reviving on top of being the only one able to deal any sort of real damage. Ameno-Sagiri’s attacks are all-consuming and brutal, raining fire and every element in the book on them over and over, nearly knocking his companions off their feet in a single blow. AcutelyYu feels the strain of trying to keep everyone together on top of Ameno-Sagiri’s constant taunting.

“You are empty,” it says from overhead as it attacks Yosuke yet again, and Yu scrambles to get him healed by Teddie. “Both of you. Why do you chase the painful facsimile of something more when you could just give in?”

Yu doesn’t dignify that or anything else with a reply, and simply readies Izanagi.

He loses track of how many turns he takes, but he’s running low on steam when he raises up to strike only to see the technicolor lines that criss-cross over the spherical body of Ameno-Sagiri go dark and dim, the eyelid that covers it blinking slowly as it stills instead of attacking, holding in silence. Even as Chie reaches for another strike, it does nothing, and eventually, after several rounds of not moving at all, it speaks again.

“I tire of this,” it declares, monotonous and even as ever. “Consider, in your single mindedness, how many other truths you have missed. You desire the fog. All humans do.”

“We said, shut up,” Kanji snarls, but even he holds his Persona steady.

The fog returns in thick waves, seeping out from underneath Ameno-Sagiri and pillowing until it covers its form completely, only the brightest parts of its large eye visible through the thick layer of dark clouds. “This host is no longer suitable,” it says, its mechanical voice beginning to fade and cross back into something high and human, just a hair.

With that, the fog swirls and darkens into another vortex, leaving a whirlwind of broken trees with it once again. When it dissipates, there’s nothing but Adachi’s crumpled body left in its wake, laying in the center of it all.

Yu’s legs carry him over to him before his mind can catch up, dashing over piles of broken branches and pine needles as fast as he can move until he’s at Adachi’s side, leaning over him as the others follow. He puts a hand to Adachi’s face, and he stirs, opening his eyes just a sliver and giving a slight moan, and Yu breathes a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around his torso lightly to help him up. He’s completely limp in his arms, and Yu knows without having to ask that he doesn’t have the strength to carry himself.

He wraps one hand underneath his legs and the other around his back, and it's a testament to his body’s exhaustion that he doesn’t object in the least, offering only a small huff as Yu gathers him into his arms. The others give them a wide berth as Yu pulls up to stand, Adachi shifting in his arms and muttering something Yu doesn’t catch. He hums, prompting it again.

“Not empty,” Adachi whispers, muffled and right into Yu’s shoulder. “Don’t wanna be.”

“I know,” Yu whispers back.

He gathers him tight against his chest.

“You’re not,” he promises.

Chapter Text

Standing in Junes with Adachi collapsed in Yu’s arms, Yu doesn’t have to say a word. Adachi will be safe with him. He’s sure he’d fight it if he were more awake, but as he is, Adachi is barely conscious with his face pressed into Yu’s neck, breath uneven and hot against his skin.

“You got this?” is all Yosuke asks as they pack up, taking care of Yu’s bag as well for him.

He nods, and Adachi breathes out a soft moan at the movement. “Yeah,” Yu says. “He doesn’t live far.”

“Can walk myself,” Adachi objects in a mumble against his collar, arms falling haphazardly over Yu’s chest. “Promise.”

Yu doesn’t have the strength to argue with such an obvious lie, so he asks instead, “Can you walk to the entrance?”

Adachi nods, the fringe of his hair tickling at Yu’s throat. Still, he’s slow to untangle himself from Yu, his limbs heavy and each movement arduous. When he does, Yu keeps a hand on one of his wrists as the other goes to steady him around the shoulders, Adachi barely able to keep his head up or his eyes open now that he’s standing more independently.

The others lead them out, but they lag behind, Adachi’s steps slow and Yu’s taken only to match his. Tracing their way back through the aisles feels like an eternity, and by the time they make it outside, Adachi’s breaths are coming out hard and sharp. When Yu puts a hand to his head, he feels fire.

“Fuck,” he swears before he can stop himself, masking it with a wave as he says goodbye to the rest of the Investigation Team, ignoring their worried looks as they slowly make their way in their respective directions. Eventually it’s just Yu and Adachi standing in the parking lot, surrounded by the hum of summer insects and the quiet of the night. When everyone has disappeared from earshot, Yu whispers, “You’re burning up.”

“I’m fine,” Adachi insists, but he makes the mistake of meeting Yu’s eyes, and underneath them, he crumples. “I feel like shit.”

“I’ll carry you,” Yu says, like he hadn’t already made that decision. No one will see them on the back roads, and if they do, no one will know the darkened silhouettes of two men. “Climb on.”

It sounds weak, even setting exhaustion aside, when Adachi argues, “The hell I will.”

“I’ll carry you bridal style again if you don’t,” Yu threatens.

Adachi sighs and relents. Still holding on, Yu drapes Adachi’s arms around his own shoulders again, settling Adachi into his back. He leans forward, and that’s all it takes for Adachi to wrap his ankles around Yu’s thighs, folding over Yu. He weighs nothing.

His forehead rests hot against Yu’s neck, and he feels his eyes flutter closed as Yu starts the trek back to Adachi’s apartment, ducking into the backroads that wind behind Junes and into the more residential part of town. It’s not long, but Yu swears he only gets warmer and warmer with each step, and Yu can hardly push his body fast enough, legs burning by the time he finally turns down Adachi’s street and approaches that familiar red door, trying to hide the labor of his breath from Adachi, even though he appears to be struggling for consciousness himself.

“I need your key,” Yu nudges his shoulder into Adachi gently, and he stirs with a light groan.

“Right pocket,” he murmurs, and Yu backs up until he can set Adachi up against the doorframe before letting him down, slowly unwinding his arms and legs from his body. When he finally extracts himself, he makes no motion to reach into his own pockets, so Yu does it for him, Adachi leaning his head back up against the threshold as his uneven panting cuts into the night air. Yu pulls out his keyring from his jacket pocket, turning through them until he finds the one he knows is the apartment key.

Yu leads him inside and fumbles for the light after Adachi ignores it in favor of stumbling right over to his bed. It’s immediately too harsh, though, and Yu turns it off again even before Adachi’s noise of complaint as he flops onto the mattress face-first, not even bothering to take off his shoes. In the dark, Yu makes his way over to the bedside and opts for the lamp instead, leaving it on when Adachi only offers a soft huff into his pillow. Gently, Yu turns him to his side to put a hand back to his forehead, and he’s even warmer than he was at Junes. Yu’s fingers nearly burn at the contact.

“I’ll get you a cold towel,” he promises, smoothing back Adachi’s sweat-soaked hair. He hums, but offers nothing else in reply, and Yu finds himself reluctant to leave his side, even just to make his way across the too-small studio apartment to his bathroom. He snags the face towel from off the rack, looking hardly-used, and runs it underneath water so cold it shocks his system after the overwhelming heat of Adachi’s body.

Adachi reaches out for him when he returns, eyes closed; without thought, Yu takes his clammy hand, and it must speak to Adachi’s mental state that he doesn’t react or object at all. Still, he only keeps the contact for a moment, just enough to prove he’s there, before he gently guides Adachi onto his back so he can smooth the towel over his forehead, Adachi’s body as maneuverable as a doll under Yu’s touch. He sprawls out over the bed in this new position as limply and easily as the first, and Yu places the towel to his temple, noting the immediate inhale and sigh that follows from Adachi’s lips as a result, shaking into something deeper, more even.

Satisfied, Yu moves down to his shoes, untying them one by one and guiding Adachi’s legs to slide them off his feet before depositing them gently on the floor next to the bed. He takes his socks next, and the sensation rouses Adachi just a little, his eyes cracking open before falling closed again with no objections. Once he’s barefoot, Yu moves back up to Adachi’s head, kneeling down on the hardwood floor and resting his elbows on the side of the bed.

The cool seems to be steadying him, at least marginally. His breath gradually goes from harsh and labored to something more natural, the exhaustion of the walk home and everything beforehand radiating out of him in waves, exhaled out of his chest. Yu doesn’t know how long he sits like that, watching Adachi’s chest rise and fall, eyes closed as his body fights the aftershocks.

Yu’s fighting his own eyes closing by the time Adachi opens his own again, shifting with a shuddering sigh that wracks his whole body from head to toe. His arms splay out and graze the side of Yu’s face.

“Oh,” Adachi breathes as he blinks Yu in like he’s seeing him for the first time all night.

“Do you think you can eat something?” Yu asks, because the way he’s looking at him is heavy, and Yu’s struggling to swallow something down hot in his chest at the sight of his half-lidded eyes so serious and fixed on him.

Adachi’s arm falls across his chest to give Yu more room to settle his elbows next to him. Then he hums, his eyes moving back to the ceiling. “Maybe. There’s miso soup.”

“I’ll make you some,” Yu offers, pressing two fingers to the back of the towel. It’s already gone lukewarm. “And replace this.”

Adachi looks back up at him, wrecked, and says before closing his eyes again, “Sure.”

Yu gets up from the floor despite the protest of his knees, taking the rag and trying to ignore the slight furrow of Adachi’s brows as he does so, raking the back of his hands across his forehead gently in a promise of his return.

He tends to the towel first, making his way to the bathroom and running the water until it’s ice cold before wringing the towel out underneath it. He places it back on Adachi’s forehead en route to the kitchen, bending down over him and spreading it gently. He’s still warm, too warm, but his skin has cooled just a little since the first towel, and he’ll count that as a small victory. Adachi’s hand twitches towards him as he stands up again to make his way towards the stove, but if he’s at all conscious, that means he can eat, and Yu finds getting his strength back a priority.

He commits the cardinal sin of warming up water in the microwave for the sake of time, worried about when Adachi’s window of consciousness might close. The smell of powdered miso is strong and reminds Yu sharply of his own childhood—nights when he felt so sick he could only do the bare minimum, and it at least warms him that Adachi doesn’t have to crawl to his own kitchen to do it himself, or worse, not do it at all. It’s ready within minutes, including the time Yu waits for it to cool down so he’s certain not to burn his tongue, but by the time Yu returns from the kitchen, Adachi’s eyes are closed and he’s deep within a fit of fever, his body tossing and turning across the bed in little circles.

“Yu?”

It’s barely audible over the sound of his sheets rustling, but he catches it all the same, because it comes with a hand reaching out to touch him, thin fingers gripping around his forearm tight like a drowning man. Yu barely steadies the soup in time before it spills over, switching the hold of it so he can run his hand down freely to hold Adachi’s own, squeezing his fingers.

“Hey,” Yu whispers, kneeling down and carefully setting the soup on Adachi’s makeshift nightstand before putting his other hand to his shoulder, steadying his frail body. “It’s okay. I made you soup.”

It takes a moment, a few more rounds of fits and starts, before Adachi’s eyes open properly from something more than pained slits, his breathing slowly morphing from something frenzied to an even pull as he takes in the sight of Yu’s face, whispering something Yu can’t catch.

“Here,” Yu says instead of trying to make him summon the energy to repeat it, gently helping guide him up until his torso is propped up against the wall, his shoulders swaying slightly now that they lack the support of the bed. Still, after a minute, Yu trusts enough that he’ll stay without falling over, and he reluctantly unwinds his fingers from Adachi’s to present the bowl of soup to him, holding one hand steady on it even as Adachi takes it for the first few moments just to make sure he won’t drop the hot liquid all over himself.

“Thanks,” Adachi offers, barely more than a waft of air. He places the soup to his lips and drinks.

“Of course,” Yu says quietly, and watches his throat work with a knot in his stomach he can’t name, hands between his own knees.

Adachi finishes in what feels like seconds, setting the cup back down on the nightstand and wiping haphazardly at his mouth with the back of his work shirt.

Yu considers this for a moment, then catches him as his head lolls to the side, half-asleep again before even getting beneath the blankets. “Let’s get you out of these first, okay?”

When he gets no response, he carefully tugs the jacket from Adachi’s shoulders, then starts on the buttons of his shirt. He reaches down and picks at the bottom one with a careful flick of his thumb, watching Adachi’s face for any sign of discomfort. When his face is still, he goes for another, working his way up with nothing more than a gentle groan until he’s able to push off the cotton shirt, stiff with dried sweat. Adachi hums as he lifts his own arms up before Yu can even move to maneuver them, allowing Yu to move the fabric up and over his body. Yu takes it and folds it before placing it on the floor. He hesitates, then places his hands over the buckle of Adachi’s slacks, waiting for his vague permissive nod before he goes for it.

Still, he’s swift and professional, trying to look anywhere other than the expanse of his pale chest as he works the fabric down his thighs, barely getting any help from Adachi as he cages one knee over his hips to slide them over his legs. He’s less formal with the pants, depositing them in a pile near where he put the shirt with the mental promise to fold it later. Down to nothing but his boxers, Adachi shivers, and Yu just presses a reassuring hand to his shoulder as he lifts himself up and makes his way over to Adachi’s dresser. He pulls out the first set of lounge clothes he sees, a pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and makes his way back over to Adachi’s side where he’s reaching for him again.

“Come here,” Yu mutters, even though he knows Adachi’s too far gone to really hear him. He guides his body through the shirt, Adachi crawling into it blindly more than anything, but together they manage to get it on, wrinkled as it is. He’s a bit more helpful with the pants than the first time around, maybe a bit more awake from all the prodding, leaning into Yu’s touch and shoving his legs through the holes on his own, but Yu still has to lift his hips up to slide them underneath him the rest of the way, his lungs in his throat as he feels the contours of his lean thighs.

Still, after some work, the job is done, and Yu covers him back up with the blanket as he curls up on his side, the towel sliding slightly. Yu readjusts it, then lowers back onto his knees, sliding his elbows in the space beside Adachi’s body and leaning his head onto the mattress.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to get to sleep, but he watches Adachi for as long as he’s able, his eyes half-lidded to take in the rise and fall of his ribcage. At some point, exhaustion wins over, but it’s a dreamless sleep—he only knows he’s fallen into the depths of it at all when he’s woken up to the sound of Adachi stirring again in the rustling sheets, something tearing up his expression even in sleep.

Without thinking, he reaches a hand out to the side of his face, cupping his cheek and brushing his thumb against the bone. Adachi’s eyes flutter, but he doesn’t see him, not really. Still, the
touch seems to do something to him, steadying him slowly until he’s still in the bed again, and bit by bit, the both of them come back down. Only when his chest moves calmly does he remove his fingers, and even then, Adachi follows him down until his hand rests on top of his again, unconscious as his towel falls from his temple onto the sheets.

Something about it breaks him. He tucks the blanket over him again, leans down, and brushes Adachi’s sweaty hair away from his face. A moment passes, towel in his hand, and with a boldness that could never be found in daylight, Yu brings his lips down to his bare forehead, ghosting a kiss across the skin. It’s only a fraction of a touch, but Yu aches with the way Adachi’s brows smooth over in the aftermath. He replaces the towel, dizzy and with nothing to do but put his head back down on the mattress to hide his sigh in his hands.

He doesn’t sleep much.

Morning comes to unsteadily, and so does Adachi, waking slowly and imperfectly as he rolls around in the sheets, bringing Yu out of his own half-sleep. He only knows he went under at all from the ache in his body, starting from his knees on the floor screaming from a night on the hardwood and up into his twisted back and shoulders, cricked from where he’d been slumped over.

Unable to fully mask a groan, the sound captures Adachi’s attention, turning around in bed to face Yu fully. He’s bleary at first, unseeing with sleep, but with a yawn, he blinks and rubs his eyes, and when they open again, they’re wide and trained right on him. With a sharp inhale and a scramble, he backs up to the wall, clutching the sheet up towards his chest and pulling himself up to sit, mouth parted.

“You…” Adachi begins, dry. He swallows, rubbing at his temples. “I didn’t know you were still here.”

Yu kneads at the back of his neck, trying to ignore a sharp twinge of pain in his right shoulder. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh.” Adachi slowly lowers his hands, bringing the sheet down his torso. He blinks at Yu, searching his face for something he can’t name. “Thanks, then, I guess.”

Adachi watches him with owlish eyes, like he’s still expecting Yu to disappear if he blinks, and Yu burns red underneath the gaze, something about the early morning haze of the room and their proximity thundering in his chest. He manages to start to make his way off the floor, pressing his hand to the hardwood. His mouth feels heavy with uneven sleep, words spinning through cotton. “I’ll make breakfast.”

Before he can pull himself up off the ground, though, a hand reaches out to stop him, warm against his forearm, and Adachi curls his fingers gently, as if Yu’s attention weren’t already his. “Hey, take it easy.”

Yu just blinks at him, but makes no further efforts to move, sinking back onto his heels. “What do you mean?”

“You look wrecked,” Adachi remarks, blunt. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, and maybe it’s just the quiet of the hour, but it’s gentler than Yu’s used to knowing what to do with. “Don’t push yourself, alright? I’ve got packets of zousui in the cabinet. I’m fine with that.”

Yu wants to disagree, swear he’ll scrounge up something more respectable than that in his barren cabinets, but he makes the mistake of meeting Adachi’s eyes, and whatever resolve he has crumbles. He’s exhausted, hanging on by a thread after a long, restless night and an even longer, harder day, and zousui sounds like the most his rioting body is capable of. But it’s the edge of naked concern across Adachi’s face that steals his words away for good, replacing them with a simple, “Okay.”

Adachi’s hand stays on him to balance him as he gets to his feet with only minor trembling, shaking off the stiffness in his legs. Once he seems certain Yu is steady on his feet, he drags a hand down his face, sighing. “Do you mind if I take a shower while you do that? I feel disgusting.”

“Not at all,” Yu replies, noting the slick of sweat across Adachi’s neck from his restlessness as he turns to the kitchen. “I’ll be here.”

Adachi swallows, voice thick. “Great.”

Before Yu can turn back around, Adachi disappears behind the bathroom door, leaving nothing but the light underneath and the shadow of his feet as evidence of his presence. Yu hovers until he hears the sound of rushing water, and only then does he search Adachi’s cabinets, pushing around packets of various instant noodles until he finds the zousui. He at least warms the water on the stove this time, rummaging around until he discovers Adachi’s one, dusty pot.

It’s a quick shower, but Yu has to force himself to think about anything else than droplets of moisture tracing down collarbones. He fixes his eyes on the dingy kitchen, rearranging some of his brightly colored instant noodle packets by variety to draw his focus away from his inner thoughts and into something tangible. He’s out before long, though, and Yu hears him poke around in his dresser, waiting until he sees the shadow of Adachi appear in the threshold again before he turns around. He’s dressed in a different set of lounge clothes, damp towel slung around his neck and hair dripping. It reminds Yu once again he’s still in his clothes from the day before, jeans cutting at his hips and shirt wrinkled unpleasantly.

Yu scans him up and down—taking in the way his sweatpants sit low and curve against the narrow length of his legs and up his thighs, the way his shirt clings to his torso from dampness and contours his chest—before returning to his pot and turning off the heat. He procures two bowls from the cupboards above, fumbling slightly, before portioning out the soup, perhaps sneaking a bit more into Adachi’s for good measure.

“Here.” He offers out the bowl, and Adachi takes it with a thin ghost of a smile, backing up into the main room and taking a seat at the table, cross-legged. Yu follows him over into the spot across from him, lifting the soup to his lips. It’s a bit too salty, with a bit of a peculiar aftertaste that comes from instant packaging, but it’s somehow perfect, comforting and warm and simple in all the ways Yu wasn’t aware he needed.

“So,” he says, knowing there’s something in the quiet that needs to be said but not quite sure how to approach it. “How are you feeling?”

Adachi puts his bowl down, scratching at his chin with a hum. “I…” He tapers off, brows furrowing. “Better. I don’t hear anything up there, if you know what I mean. I feel alone again.”

“Good,” Yu says for lack of a better expression, wetting his cracked lips. “That’s good.”

“There’s no way I’m going into work today, though,” Adachi yawns as he stretches up wide with his arms before scratching at the back of his head, damp hair shaking with the touch. “I feel like I got hit by a truck.”

Yu nods. “That’s smart.”

“By the way,” Adachi adds, seeming suddenly intrigued with the way the soup swirls in his bowl. “Did you… undress me? Last night.”

Despite the atmosphere, Yu has to hold back an indelicate snort. “Of course not,” he assures, lightly, and waits for the relief to break across Adachi’s face before adding, “I only helped.”

Mortified, Adachi sputters, his cheeks turning a blotchy red before bringing the soup bowl back to his lips and hiding behind it until he finishes it all. Yu muffles a laugh in his own bowl, feeling lighter than he has all morning, and the feeling breaks a tension in the room that he hadn’t even known was there.

When Adachi finally sets his bowl down for good, he still looks somewhere between awkward and contemplative. He shifts, covering half of his mouth with his hand as he looks off into the kitchen, shoulders slouched and avoiding Yu’s gaze. “You didn’t have to take care of me, you know.”

A smile twitches at Yu’s lips. “I know,” he echoes, taking another sip of his soup. “I didn’t want you to have to go through all of that alone. It would have felt wrong.”

“Ever the martyr, Yu,” Adachi mutters, but his eyes slide back to Yu’s, and there’s a hint of amusement in there, and more than a little bit of gratitude. “What would I be without you?”

Yu laughs, humorless. “Who knows.”

Adachi is quiet across from him, but their legs brush under the table, and neither of them shy away from the contact, burning in little sparks of touch. They meet each other’s eyes, but the silence is comfortable rather than anticipatory, and for a single, delirious moment of sleep deprivation and bodily exhaustion, he loses himself in it.

As new as this feeling is—this easy domesticity—it’s so easy to imagine a hundred, a thousand other days like this, a time loop stretching into the future rather than the past, and all the nausea Yu’s kept down all morning surfaces with a vengeance. He pushes the small remains of his soup away and hangs his head, trying to steady his breath, trying to ignore Adachi’s knee pressed against his.

It’s silent for another minute, but it’s a bit heavier, and Yu can feel Adachi’s eyes on him, studying him like he doesn’t quite know what to say. “You can use my shower if you want.”

When Yu looks up, Adachi is leaning on his elbow, empty bowl pushed to the side and so, so close to Yu’s own face. The table is small, meant for one, and Yu doesn’t have enough room to breathe.

When Yu doesn’t reply, Adachi continues, “You look like shit, you know. The water pressure kinda sucks, but it gets pretty hot.”

Yu thinks about it, he really does—about standing in his house stripped down to nothing and wanting what isn’t his, about taking more of what he already can’t have—he thinks about it, and he chokes.

He wants everything too much, and he can’t.

“I… have to get home.” He presses his hands together under the table, willing them still. “Nanako.”

“Right,” Adachi says, and if there’s an emotion there, he doesn’t betray it, even-keeled and light. “Nanako.”

Shakily, Yu rises to his feet, mourning the loss of contact with Adachi’s leg as soon as it’s gone, cold even in the midsummer morning air. He tries to ignore Adachi’s eyes as they cling to his frame while he gathers his things, but eventually, he caves, catching the hint of confusion on his face before it can smooth away like a knife between his fingers. It’s gone after a blink into neutrality, but Yu bites down hard on his lip anyway as he gathers up his bag. Adachi stands up, but Yu’s hand is on the door before he can cross the room, desperate to put a barrier between them before he does something he can’t take back.

On the other side of the door, he pinches his eyes shut, and inhales.

The walk home is a blur, his body pulsing with his strides but his mind somewhere else, caught up in a net of flashing images and piercing, periodic bursts of heat in his chest to go along with it. In his mind, he’s never left the apartment, still tied up somewhere in Adachi’s kitchen, on his floor, in his shower, on his—

The relief of oxygen he expects when he opens the door to his own residence never comes, instead leaving him as bereft of air as he’d been outside, panting with how quickly he’d taken the walk. Still, there’s some release when he marches up to his bathroom and immediately strips down to nothing, turning on the shower as hot as he thinks he can stand it before eyeing his own reflection in the mirror, pallid and worn, as it slowly fogs over. Adachi was right—he does look like shit.

There was no way he could have faced himself there, though. Not in his apartment, with Adachi right outside and just separated by a thin door. He sees Adachi’s eyes when he closes his, so he opens them again. His muscles ache as he steps into the shower, and he can’t help the sigh that passes his lips at the rush of hot water against his skin, soaking in and winding through his body. He exhales for what feels like the first time in hours, sticking his face directly underneath the water and letting it drown him until he has to come up for air, turning around to let it cover his back with a shudder.

He knew he couldn’t do this there, because it’s impossible to think about anything else. He wants. He wants.

And he’s losing the will to pretend like he doesn’t.

The problem is that it’s slipping now, now of all times when he’s held it together for years, boiling just underneath the surface. That it’s something about this moment, this loop, the dizzying degree of difference between the dynamic he’s always played out with him and the one he’s stumbled into now, this push-and-pull dance just on the edge of something Yu’s too afraid to name.

He was close enough to kiss. He could have done it. He could have tossed their bowls aside, reached for his wrists to pull him the inch it would have taken, and pressed their lips together. For a brief, hallucinatory moment, Yu could have sworn he wanted him to. That maybe his eyes drew just a little downwards, or maybe it was a trick of the light—but he didn’t, because he can’t. He can’t be the one that does it first. Not this time. Not when it’s permanent.

He knows it all too well, but he still can’t chase the images out of his head, the damning, irreconcilable knowledge that it was possible, and perhaps in a different timeline, he could have taken it. He could have kissed the salt from his lips, crawled over the table and pressed him down to the ground. Maybe he would have let him. He might have flipped them over before he could get to him and stopped it all—but maybe, just maybe, he would have opened up, offered his breath past Yu’s lips and kissed back. They’d kiss until he’s flushed, flushed like he’d been the night before from fever, but this time from want, even if it was just a shadow, a facsimile of how much Yu wanted him, maybe…

Yu’s already half-hard when he reaches down to touch himself.

There’s no way he could have hidden it, he’s already so sure it was written across his face, the fantasy of it all. It might as well have been lit up across his eyes when Adachi suggested he stayed, the desire it churned in him for something more. The thought of him coming in after him and finally admitting what Yu’s been desperately trying to have, stripping out of his lounge clothes and kissing Yu underneath the stream, their bodies pressed together.

But no, that’s just his imagination. His real fear was that the time alone in that vulnerability would leave him liable to do something terrible, say something he’ll regret. Something he can’t take back. I think I want your mornings.

Maybe he’d kiss him then, flush and fresh from the shower and ripe with sensitivity, just enough to push him that extra step and cross the line. Maybe he’d let him do more, run his hands up his shirt and press him back against the bed, let him explore every inch of his body this time. He’d pull down his sweatpants and take him as far as he can, bold and desperate to show his own desire, to express the years and years of want and frustration and need building up inside of him like magma. Maybe he’d put his hand in Yu’s hair and tug, just a little demanding, just a little mean, alive, and Yu—

Yu muffles a moan with his free hand, not sure who’s home and awake at this hour of the morning. The other works himself up and down, hips twitching and legs trembling slightly as he imagines his lips around Adachi, the sounds he’d make. Maybe he’d be vocal, swearing and cursing into half-bitten moans, or maybe he’d just writhe, panting and breathing in little bursts that Yu would work to bring out, trying to find what makes him come undone. He’d arch when he finds it, narrow and lithe and strangely beautiful in all the ways that only Adachi can be, and Yu would take him down deeper, all of him, everything he could take. Everything he would give.

Maybe he’d even let him stay.

Yu comes with a start, then watches it rinse off his hands. He leans against the wall of the shower and steadies his breath, trying to clear his vision and uncurl his toes. He feels different, more present in the light of its lingering haze, grounded to the feeling of water on his back and a chill across his body. He feels hot and guilty and exhausted, leaning his head back into the water again.

He spends a long time there.

When the water runs cold and there’s no point in putting off the day any longer, Yu gathers himself, and texts his friends to meet him at Junes.

He figures it’s about as good a distraction as any, and a necessary one at that. He leaves Adachi out of it to rest—besides, it gives room for the others to speak candidly. Himself included.

Everyone arrives in waves, but soon the entirety of the Investigation Team is gathered around the table, a mix of anticipation and exhaustion written across their faces. Yu feels much the same.

“So,” he begins once everyone has gathered, light summer breeze flowing through his fingertips as he steeples them. “About last night.”

Kanji gives a cut-off half burst of laughter, rubbing at his nose. “Damn, I’ve always wanted to say that.”

It cuts through the tension settling over their group like a knife, breaking apart the cloud of solemnity that hung over their heads into a soft murmur of agreement and laughter, the remains of it dissipating in the air. The magic of it doesn’t last long, though, because in the wake of the beat of silence that follows everyone settles back again into something more serious before anyone speaks again.

“I’m not going to lie,” Rise says first, brushing out one of her pigtails with her fingers. “That was frightening. For a lot of reasons.”

“I’ll say,” Yosuke agrees with a sharp exhale. “I never imagined something like that could be responsible for the fog.”

“Or that it could be inside Adachi,” Yukiko adds, pressing her lips together. “I knew he could be different at times, but a monster like that? It’s a miracle he’s sane.”

It’s more than a miracle. It’s blood, sweat, tears, and years of work, and more than that, Adachi has always kept his own mind fairly well despite the Sagiri’s influence. In his exhaustion, Yu worries what might show on his expression, so he puts a hand to his face, pretending to cover a cough.

Chie continues, “I guess we’re dealing with more than just some average kidnapper, huh?”

Yu doesn’t feel like he’s leading them somewhere they won’t already go when he says definitively, “I think that’s a fair assumption.”

Teddie, quiet until now, rocks back and forth in his seat, his tongue between his lips as he hums. It grabs the attention of the table, and he blanches a bit under the attention, hiding beneath rounded shoulders. “I still don’t feel anything in the other world that could have any clue to this,” he admits with a sigh. “But I had no idea that was inside Adachy-baby either, or that he was in that world at all, so maybe my nose just isn’t up to snuff anymore.”

“Your nose is fine, Teddie,” Rise assures, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from her seat beside him and giving him a squeeze. His frown persists, but softens at the corners.

Yukiko nods in agreement. “Who could have seen that coming?”

Yu feels a migraine coming on, but Teddie’s pout has the attention of the table. “I should have.”

“Hey, hey,” Kanji reaches across the table to awkwardly pat Teddie’s arm, a stilted, but sincere motion. “We should have noticed sooner, too. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

A long, drawn-out sigh interrupts the group, Yosuke drawing everyone’s eyes with the noise. “That goes for all of us,” Yosuke floats his gaze to each of them, and Yu feels transparent when he meets him. “There’s nothing more we can do than what we’ve already done, and we’ve done what’s important, which is get that thing out of Adachi. There’s no use speculating about the past.”

Yu feels a bit nauseous again, but he swallows it down.

“Yosuke’s right,” Rise says after a lull as the others absorb his words, a more thoughtful sort of solemnness falling over the group. Still, Rise’s voice is bright, and there’s a smile edging on her face. “We should be enjoying our break, and I have a lot of plans for us, so we better not let being sad sacks over what we can’t change ruin it!”

“Hell yeah,” Chie interjects, pumping her fist in the air. It seems to quell the tension even more, seeping it away to the edges of the table, though it clings slightly still. “That’s what I like to hear!”

“Oh,” Yukiko pipes up, turning to Yu and drawing him out of somewhere back inside the recesses of his mind again. “That reminds me, what’s Nanako been up to over break?”

Yu replies smoothly, glad for the easy topic. “Not really much of anything,” he admits, as much as it upsets him to say. “We hang out a lot, though.”

“We should visit her today,” Chie suggests as she rises to her feet, putting her hands on the table. It gathers everyone’s attention with a shake of the foundation. “We can’t let Nanako spend her break alone!”

The agreement from the rest comes swift and quick, and as much of a tornado as their arrival always is, their exit is moreso, a flurry of bags and bodies as they collect themselves and make their way down to the Dojima residence in a large, loud cloud of people. The summer sun shines down bright on their shoulders, and by the time he gets home and slides off his shoes in the entryway, Yu’s are a bit warm to the touch.

At the sight of so many new arrivals, Nanako turns from the TV and her face brightens like a bulb, dress swirling around her legs as she clambers to her feet to greet everyone. As the only truly unfamiliar face, Rise meets her first, and Yu laughs as Nanako blurts out, “I’ve seen you on TV!”

“That’s me,” Rise says with a smile, ruffling Nanako’s hair and bending down to her height. Nanako seems entranced with Rise’s bouncing pigtails and brightly colored dress. “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“I was in the middle of coloring.” Nanako tugs on Rise’s hand, pointing to the table where she’s spread out multiple printed coloring book pages out along with her colored pencil collection, TV playing the mid-morning news in the background. “Wanna join?”

“Duh I do,” Rise replies, like she’d rather do nothing more in her entire life. Nanako beams, practically skipping as she leads them back to the table, Rise bounding after.

The rest trickle into the main room behind them, shedding their shoes and bags as they hover in the doorway, but Kanji breaks from the crowd first, peering at an uncolored picture of a butterfly. “Can I join?”

“Come over,” Nanako waves at him, patting the seat next to her and across from where Rise sat down. “The more the merrier!”

Kanji smiles, a bit more timid than either Nanako or Rise, but full of childlike joy and relief all the same as he goes over to pick up the butterfly painting, studying it with a serious eye as he surveys the colored pencils set out in front of him. The rest begin to fill in around them, with Yukiko, Chie, and Yosuke going to the couch while Teddie opts for sitting on the remaining space around the table with the coloring pages. Yu takes a seat at the table and turns it around to face the rest.

Kanji and Rise take their coloring assignment extremely seriously, proceeding to throw their entire being into picking the exact right shades and getting it perfectly within the lines as Nanako does the same, leading them with her own studiousness. At first, Teddie approaches it with the same, but Yu watches his focus wane, and as soon as Teddie looks behind him to catch Yu’s eyes, there’s an unspoken question in them that Yu simply meets with a nod. Teddie sets his pencil down, the rest oblivious to his departure as he scoots back to sit at Yu’s feet.

“What’s up?” Yu asks, keeping his voice low even though Yosuke and the girls are wrapped up in their own conversation as well.

Teddie plays with the hem of his shirt, looking down at his hands. “Do you think I’m losing my touch? Do you think I’m even valuable to you guys?”

Yu creases his brows, leaning his elbow on the table. “Of course you’re valuable,” Yu assures. “And I don’t think you’re losing your touch. Some things are just… over our heads.”

Teddie frowns, but it looks a bit brighter, his eyes shining with something turning behind them. “So there’s no way we could have known?”

Yu stifles a sigh, because the world is testing him today.

“No, no way at all.”

He works at the hospital that next night to clear his head, just for an excuse to get out of the house and do something with his hands.

It’s a longer night than normal, at that—the elevator’s broken, so he has to climb each level manually, adding extra time to his rounds throughout the halls. As he’s wrapping up for the night, he spots a familiar face in the stairwell, a flash of white hair and the hunched-over frame of Hisano Kuroda struggling her way down the steps. Yu rushes over to her side and offers out his arm, clearing his throat gently to get her attention.

“Oh,” she greets in her crackling voice, looking up past her permanent funeral veil at him before wrapping her hand around his forearm. “Thank you, young man.”

“Of course,” Yu replies, guiding her down each step with careful balance at her pace. “I’m sorry the elevator’s out of service.”

Luckily, they’re only on the second floor, but Yu is loathe to think of how many steps she potentially had to walk up from whatever office she had to visit, even if the building isn’t particularly tall.

“It’s alright,” she offers, though her voice is still flat and a bit airy, absent. She looks Yu up and down as they descend the next set of steps, and in the fluorescent light of the stairwell, Yu notes the comb perched in her hair. “You know, you look quite like my ex husband.”

They reach the bottom of the landing before long, finding themselves back in the lobby of the hospital where Yu just has to check out before finishing his rotation. “Do I really?”

By the time he turns around to ask it, though, she’s walked away, gone down another hallway and disappeared from sight. It’s eerie, though he knows well there’s nothing supernatural about it, but he’s still grateful for the chance to see her, making a mental note to swing by the Samegawa River on a Sunday.

After checking out, he makes his way down through the streets of Inaba, walking past the gas station on his way home. There, underneath the lights silhouetted by the neon price signs, is Adachi, putting on a forced air of surprise when he sees Yu hop off the bus stop like he hasn’t been fully aware of Yu’s schedule for months, through a combination of running into each other and asking when it’s relevant. Still, Yu offers a smile and a wave when he approaches, parking himself underneath the light next to him.

“Want me to walk you home?” Adachi offers, hands in his pockets.

Yu says the same thing he always says when he asks on nights like these, but it feels heavy on his tongue. “Sure.”

They’re close as they walk together, closer than they’d normally allow themselves to be, but the walk is dark—it’s overcast and the moon and stars are covered up, swallowing most of the natural light that bathes the valley—so it’s natural to use one another for guidance on the path. He can feel the warmth radiating off of Adachi’s body, not feverish, but human, shared with its proximity as Yu’s own must be to him.

“How have you been feeling?” Yu asks in the silence, companionable and comfortable. He cuts into it not because he particularly wants to break it, but because he suddenly wants to know, and feels the need to ask. There’s something about the way Adachi hasn’t flinched away from their shoulders brushing against each other once that makes him feel bold, honest.

“Well,” Adachi hedges as their elbows brush, and he uses his other hand to scratch at his ear, looking out towards the path in front of them. “I’m still exhausted, but you know, I’m always exhausted from how Dojima runs me around, so that’s not new, really. But that’s all.”

Yu hums, and something in him must loosen, because he swings his arm a little wider in his step and their knuckles touch, just a hair. Yu finds Adachi hasn’t moved an inch when it swings back to touch them again. Adachi’s fingers twitch, but don’t pull back.

“It’s not perfect,” he continues, voice low. “It’s still an adjustment. Some days are just a little off, just because I guess I’m not used to having all my own thoughts again, but I feel a lot more… normal. More than I have in a while.”

It’s not beyond him how much he’s giving. “I’m relieved.”

“I can’t lie, though.” His fingers twitch again, and Yu swears he almost feels his fingers reach to curl around his, but they fall just centimeters back, placing space Yu doesn’t want between them even though their knuckles still bump slightly with each step. “I still feel a pull towards Yomi, but it’s more curiosity than anything supernatural, this time. There’s something that fog demon wanted, right?”

Yu swallows, but accepts the marginal comfort it brings. “Right.”

Adachi slows his steps, just enough to look over at Yu for the first time all walk, just a glimpse, and there’s something serious there, commanding enough for Yu to slow in turn. “I won’t go in there alone,” he says, nudging Yu’s shoulder so subtly Yu’s left wondering if it was really intentional. “I know that matters to you. So I promise.”

Yu doesn’t know how to thank him for that in a way that won’t betray the heady swirl in his chest, but thankfully, they’re nearing the house now, and turning down the street to approach the Dojima residence, Adachi eyes the garden as they pass by, whistling low in his appraisal.

“Damn,” he remarks, nodding at the beds. The seeds they planted months earlier have sprouted in full, bountiful leafy green heads jutting out from the soil. “That’s looking good.”

“It’ll be ready for harvest soon,” Yu says, grateful for the break in tension that had fallen over him. “I’ll have to prepare something really worth the effort we’ve put in.”

As Yu reaches to open the door, Adachi lingers rather than turning around as he usually does once he sees the door unlock, hovering just in the doorway underneath the porch light with his hands in his pockets as Yu stands in the open frame.

“You can come inside, if you want,” Yu decides in the space they spend staring at each other, neither quite sure what to say. “Have a drink.”

“Yeah,” Adachi’s lips twitch upwards. “I’d like that.”

It’s not long, really just a drink, Adachi with a beer and Yu with a cup of tea as they stand in the kitchen and talk idly about the case. Dutifully as he ever is, once Adachi’s downed the last of his drink, he makes his way back out the door, but their eyes meet when they say goodnight.

The days stretch on, long and languid with late summer, and Yu is recruited, as he always is whenever he makes it this long into the year, by a pleading Yosuke into helping out with the infamous Junes summer sale.

What’s different is that unlike most years, there’s a bit more company.

“Can you pass me the price gun?” Saki asks, high up on the ladder as Yosuke hovers underneath her frantically trying to change the signs on rows and rows of items. Yu stands between them, a dutiful sentinel to ward off customer questions with his winning smile and intimate knowledge of which aisle contains what. “It’s easier than changing the signs way up here.”

Yosuke’s eyes slide around, as if looking for a manager, before saying, “Sure thing.”

He passes it up to her, and she proceeds to fiddle around with it before expertly applying sticker after sticker to a row of seaweed snacks, faster than Yu can blink. Yosuke whistles, a joking sort of approval, and Saki responds by dropping the gun unceremoniously on his head, which he barely manages to fumble and catch.

“It’s out of stickers,” she declares, climbing down from the ladder and reaching into the box of new price tags to attach. “Can you switch it out for me? I’ll take over here.”

“Got it,” Yosuke salutes, and even Saki gives him a mock one in return, her lips twitching upwards as she balances the box on her hip. “Come on, Yu.”

Yu isn’t entirely sure why he has to go with him—he’s been enjoying Saki’s company as they’ve gotten to work together, and now that she’s started to open up a bit, he finds she’s a lot like her brother: quiet with a dry, witty sense of humor, and he’s only just starting to be able to look at her without feeling some hollow, horrible thing crawl in his guts. Still, he follows at Yosuke’s command, trailing him back into the employee office room while Yosuke rummages around for sticker paper.

They’re alone in the office, and after Yosuke finds what he’s looking for, he takes a seat at the desk and gestures for Yu to sit across from him on one of the folding chairs. “This thing takes forever to reload.”

Yosuke fiddles with it for a moment, but eventually, he folds in frustration, setting the paper and the gun down on the desk as he slumps into his hand. He’s been a bit twitchy all day, manic in his job duties and a bit hectic, but Yu figured that’s retail. Still, looking at him now, it’s obvious there’s something more on his mind, and Yu turns to him at attention. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Yu’s reply is automatic. “Of course.”

“You know how I told you I had a crush on Saki?” Yosuke begins, spinning the roll of sticker paper in an idle circle on the desk. Yu nods before Yosuke continues. “I don’t really know if I do anymore, you know? I just thought I’d let you know since we’re working with her, and I didn’t want you to think it was still… like that, I guess.”

Yu arches his eyebrows. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke nods, leaning on his elbow. “I think I idolized her at first, but I think now I see her more as an older sister figure than anything. She’s really reliable like that, yeah? I guess I’ve realized I don’t actually feel anything romantic after all.”

Yu blinks at him, studying the red across his face, blotched with honesty. “I understand.”

“I guess you would,” Yosuke muses, but it’s not unkind. He’s looking off somewhere over Yu’s shoulder and fiddling with the hem of his apron, lips worrying together. He drops his voice even lower, down to a whisper despite their solitude in the room. “Since you, you know… You like guys, right?”

Yu would laugh if the moment weren’t so clearly serious for him. “Right.”

“And that’s cool!” Yosuke insists, holding up his hands quickly before returning to poking at his apron, lip between his teeth. “I’m glad you can be yourself around us. And Kanji like guys too, and Chie and Yukiko like each other, so it’s not weird, right?”

Humming, Yu cocks his head to the side, appraising Yosuke’s curled-in frame, and asks something he’s always wondered about outright. “Does it bother you?”

“No,” Yosuke says, nearly tripping over himself to get the word out, scrambling. “No, it doesn’t.” He pauses, curling one knee up onto the chair with him. “I guess I used to think it was weird, but lately I’ve been thinking about how I feel about everything and what I might be, you know, into, and… it doesn’t have to mean anything! But it’s good to question it, right?”

“Everyone probably should,” Yu agrees, even though it was never much of something he had to question for himself in its obviousness. Not everyone has as easy of a path, though. Yosuke’s always been evidence of that.

Yosuke leans forward, curling his arms around his knee and leaning over it, peering at Yu with pleading eyes. “You gotta promise not to make fun of me.” He only continues once Yu nods, and even when he does, his voice is lower even still, words stilted and pushed out in furitive bursts. “But I’ve been hanging out with, uh, Naoki a lot lately, actually. And I know this is totally out of left field because I haven’t said anything about it, but I think I maybe like him.”

It’s not out of any field at all, but Yu just nods again, solemn and attentive. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke says, pulling his other knee up into his chest and squishing himself into the office chair, hugging his knees to himself. “I’m not going to do anything about it, because I don’t want to scare him or have it be one-sided because he’s a good friend and I don’t want to ruin that. And I don’t know what I’d even do anyway, other than see what happens, I guess.” He pushes a lock of hair behind his ear, looking at Yu out of the corner of his eyes. “But I had to get it off my chest. And, well, you’re the one person I knew I would have my back with this no matter what.”

“Of course I do,” Yu replies before anything else, leaning forward in his chair and making sure to look Yosuke directly in the eyes. It’s not lost on him how much it’s taking him to say any of this, how much he’s had to work through. Naoki. He bites down the edges of a smile threatening to break across his face, forcing it down for the sake of the conversation. “Always.”

Yosuke smiles at him, a little shaky, but more than a bit relieved, brightening by degrees. “Thanks, dude. I knew I could count on you.”

Yu can’t tell him how proud he is of him in words, but he hopes the hand he puts to his shoulder can at least convey some of the sentiment for him.

Yosuke shoos him off long before the end of the day proper, swearing that the real employees can take care of the rest of the work from here. With some last-minute tidying up, Yu complies, grateful he could at least help with some of the chaos hanging over the employees’ heads and riding high from Yosuke’s admission. There’s a spring in his step when he walks home, one that only picks up when his phone rings to see Adachi on the caller ID.

“Hey,” he greets breezily, a smile on his lips as the late afternoon sun warms his body. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Adachi greets in return, but it’s nothing like the one Yu offered, flat and curt like a line going dead, and the tone of it is enough to slow Yu in his tracks. “They found him—the teacher. Morooka.”

Yu’s heart drops into his stomach as he comes to a complete stop on the sidewalk, arm swinging limply at his side while the other holds up the phone. “Found him,” he repeats.

“Floating,” Adachi interrupts, as if Yu hadn’t said anything at all. There’s something wrong with his voice, clinical and detached, and it’s chilling Yu through the receiver. “Yeah. They found him on the south bank of the Samegawa on the edge of town, and I’m no forensics expert, but it looks like he’s been there a couple of days. Probably not much more than that.”

Yu doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to say anything, so he just remains quiet, breathing into the receiver as Adachi continues.

“It’s going to be difficult to get anything off the body,” he sighs, and Yu hears a slight rustling, like Adachi’s rubbing at his face. “But they’re going to run an autopsy report, obviously, and I’ll get that to you when it gets back to me.”

Yu swallows past a thickness in this throat, a floating, numb feeling. “Okay.”

Adachi lowers his voice into something softer, more present. “It’s disgusting, Yu,” he mutters, and when Yu closes his eyes, he can imagine him on the other end, pale-faced and nauseated. “It’s really disgusting. The fish have been at it for days, and I don’t know if it’s pre- or post-mortem yet, but there’s an ugly depression on the back of his skull from something hitting it, and with the water damage, it’s… Fuck, you probably don’t want to hear any of this.”

“It’s okay,” Yu says, not because it is, but because Adachi needs to get it off his chest, and if that’s what Yu can do for him, he will. It anchors him to the moment, if nothing else.

“Dojima told me to take a breather,” Adachi explains, and if Yu focuses, he can hear shuffling and voices in the distant background, the crime scene moving around him. “After they loaded up the body I felt sick, so I decided I might as well call you. Let you know.”

“Yeah.” Yu swallows, letting his feet continue to carry him the rest of the short way home, forcing one concrete step after the other.

“Don’t tell Dojima I told you confidential information, yeah?” Adachi laughs, but it’s a hollow, sickly thing, and it leaves Yu’s own chest cold in its place, empty. “You should probably tell the rest of the team though, so we can plan to meet tomorrow. I’ll let you know when I can sneak away, but, ah, maybe don’t expect Dojima home for a few days, alright?”

“Alright,” Yu replies, his tongue heavy in his mouth. “I’ll let the others know.”

There’s a bit more shuffling on Adachi’s end of the line as Yu rounds the corner down to his street before he says a simple, “Thanks, Yu.”

The line cuts dead after, leaving Yu alone on his journey. He takes the remaining steps up to the Dojima household in a haze, everything blurring as he takes off his shoes and bag in the doorway and makes his way up to his room, zombiefied, before collapsing onto the futon, phone still in his hand as he stares up at the ceiling.

He fucked up.

It’s nothing like the previous loops, it’s not like there’s even murderers to copy, and yet, Yu finds himself here again, with blood on his hands and on the streets of Inaba, and it’s all his own fault. He stopped paying attention. He let it leave his radar. He had other priorities, he let it slept his mind, he—

He let someone die. He knew it was going to happen, knew what was going to happen when he went missing, and he did nothing. Too focused on everything else, too focused on everyone else, and now someone is dead. He could have saved him. He didn’t. Now it’s too late.

He tells the others. He fields their complex, muted grief with the last of his resilience, and falls asleep before the sun goes down.

The rest he’ll deal with tomorrow.

They meet at Junes the next day, in between a shift that Yu takes with Yosuke to keep his mind on something, anything else than the mental picture in his head of his former teacher face-down in the water.

Adachi barely manages to sneak away from the station during a lunch break, texting Yu that he’s on his way and leaving him little time to gather everyone else up. It doesn’t take anyone long to make it over, though, and within minutes everyone’s gathered at the usual table, an air of thick uncertainty over the group as they wait for Adachi to speak.

He’s haggard, tired bags underneath his eyes and sweating underneath his shirt, tie askew as he takes his seat and faces the rest. Yu and Yosuke are still technically on the clock, aprons around their waists. Adachi rubs at his face, sighs, and begins. “The autopsy revealed the actual cause of death.”

Yu swallows down the bile, and despite himself, takes the point. “What is it?”

“Blunt force trauma to the head,” Adachi sighs, rubbing at his face. The expressions of the rest range from blankly solemn to disgusted, most staring down at their hands. “They’re not ruling it as foul play. The nature of the wound and where he was found point to something accidental, according to the precinct.”

“But what about the guy who literally confessed to his kidnapping?” Yosuke demands, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows. Out of the group, he’s the least mournful by a mile, tapping his foot in impatience. “Does that not matter?”

“I know,” Adachi sighs again, deeper, lifting his head just enough to slide his eyes to Yosuke, and then to each of them in line. “I know. The guys are still convinced he just got plastered, fell, and hit his head. Nothing more.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Kanji insists, putting his fist down on the table. He searches the others for confirmation, getting nods in return. “Someone literally confessed to his disappearance. How does that not factor in?”

Adachi hisses through his teeth. “Sure,” he hedges, peeling some of his hair back from his forehead. “But you gotta remember, Rise came back fine. We get false confessions all the time for random shit, and there’s no evidence or motive that would point to homicide. He was confirmed to have been out sick for a week already, and he’s an adult who can make his own decisions, wherever they may lead. No one’s gonna take kidnapping seriously when it comes to a grown man.”

“Are you saying you think it’s just a coincidence, too?” Chie demands, leaning forward to stare at Adachi across the table.

Adachi throws his hands up in the air before slumping down on his elbows. “Fuck, I don’t know,” he admits, squishing his cheek into his palm. “I know we should at least follow up on it, considering how little else we have to go on. We’re still working on the warrant to get a full sweep of the guy’s house, but after that, this is our answer really because it’s our only answer. Frankly? No one really seems to care all that much beyond that.”

“I guess if they’re that confident,” Yukiko mutters, staring down at her hands with her lip between her teeth, contemplative. “Is there truly no evidence of foul play?”

“The head wound was consistent with a nearby rock that had traces of blood on it,” Adachi explains, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We couldn’t move it if we tried, and there was no evidence of a struggle. We’re still conducting some interviews, but no one saw or heard anything around the time of death, either. There was alcohol in his system, a lot.”

Yu turns and turns the scenario over in his head, unsatisfied and uncomfortable no matter how long he sits with it, regardless of how he lets it play out. Still, the others begin to murmur about these details, Rise’s voice rising up to finally say, “I guess we can’t know for sure yet, can we?”

“No,” Yosuke says, frowning. “Not yet.”

Adachi pulls his sleeve up to check his watch, yawning behind his hand. “Well,” he slinks to his feet, giving the table a mock salute. “I gotta get back to work before Dojima kills me. Keep me in the loop.”

“Of course.” Yu watches his back for as long as he can before he disappears around a corner.

He returns to work, but only with half of his attention on the floor. He goes through the motions robotically—stocking shelves, leading customers around the aisles, re-arranging products—but his mind is somewhere else, still turning over the events of the conversation. It’s a logical explanation, sure, but not one Yu is willing to accept when he’s lived this so many times, when he’s managed to avoid all other so-called inevitable fates aside from this one. He can’t shake the itch at the back of his skull, and he leaves early, citing a persistent headache that’s only half a lie.

Instead of making his way home, though, he swings by the Velvet Room to grab Marie, desperate to get what’s scratching at his throat out into words.

“Something is very wrong here,” Yu says once he’s finished catching her up to speed. They’ve chosen a seat underneath one of the trees by the shrine, a ways away from everyone else and tucked into the corners of the fence, shaded by its branches from the sun. “I don’t care what everyone else says.”

“Mitsuo had nothing to copy,” Marie reminds him with a slight furrow of her brows, leaning her elbows over her knees. “Maybe he really does just get sick each loop, and that’s how Mitsuo found him vulnerable in the past, but this time fate took him out anyway.”

“I guess,” Yu frowns, feeling distinctly like he might be going insane. “But the core of his behavior is that he wanted attention, no matter what kind, and…” Yu bites the rest of his thoughts off, putting his head in his hands and swearing. “Fuck. I should have checked on Morooka to see if he was actually sick. I should have checked in on Mitsuo to see what he was really up to.”

Marie holds out a hand, but Yu’s blind to it, and equally deaf to the sound of his own name. “Yu…”

“I could have prevented this,” he continues, staring out into the grass in front of him unblinking, feeling the weight of everything crash down on his shoulders and press, hard. “I should have prevented this. I just let it happen, and it’s on me, it’s—”

This time, Marie’s voice is too loud and sharp to ignore. “Yu!”

The force of it snaps him to attention, his head raising up to look over at her, the stern fall of her lips and her wide eyes demanding his focus. He demures, allowing her to speak.

“Will you shut up already?” she demands, rubbing a hand across her face before letting it drop back down to her knees with a flop, pivoting towards him with a snap of her legs. “Your ridiculous savior complex is working in overdrive right now, stop trying to make everything your problem!”

Yu winces and shrinks back into the fence by a degree, chest churning with objections. “But…”

“Even if you could have done those things, it’s not your job to save everyone,” Marie continues, miming a zipping of the lips that Yu follows by pressing his own together into a thin line. “Besides, I’m not convinced this isn’t an accident, either.”

Yu puts his head into his hands, splaying out his knees to sink down further. “Not you, too.”

“Worst case scenario, if this kid’s a killer, this kid’s a killer,” Marie shrugs, leaning back a little to give Yu some space now that she’s adequately convinced he won’t continue his tirade. “That has nothing to do with you, or the rest of this. If you really want to do something, try talking to him now. It’s never too late.”

Yu looks up from his hands, slowly turning his head to meet her eyes. “You’re right,” Yu nods, a furious bobbing motion he can hardly control in his haste. “I need to do that.”

“I didn’t say you needed to,” Marie says, but it’s lost on him entirely.

He’s got a new resolve.

Until he sees him, however, Yu works.

After he finishes up his week with Yosuke at Junes, Yu throws himself into anywhere that will take him on any given day, bouncing around from place to place and trying, with everything in him, to see and meet everyone completely.

He works at the daycare, where Yu tries and tries to get through to a persistently avoidant Yuta, while Eri frets about her role in his life as her step-son remains, seemingly, out of her reach. They’re getting better though, slowly—Yuta says they’ll be going to the fireworks festival. By night, Yu works at the hospital, listening to Sayoko as he tries gently to remind her of her passion in between her flirtatious jabs and smirks, even as they become less frequent than her genuine grievances. He can understand the drive to keep at something despite the grief.

By Sunday, he meets Hisano by the riverbank and listens over the flow of rushing water, watching her slowly push past her initial reluctance as she, too, begins to open up. She doesn’t wear her comb anymore. On nights he can’t go to the hospital, he’s at Shu’s house. He faces his prickliness with as much grace as he can, leading him through exercises and work pages despite his dwindling, but still present, hostility. He knows from experience that patience, in all of these cases, is the only salve, but nonetheless he feels himself grow itchy throughout the days, desperate to deepen each of them to their fullest extent.

Sometime in the following week, he finds his way to the shrine at an odd hour of the day, collapsing onto the empty steps and just using the second to breathe. The days have blurred into one another as of late, and August is growing long in its passing. The sun is already starting to glow golden on the horizon, and Yu stares out into the treeline, letting the breeze wash over him.

It’s not long before the fox finds him, leaping from the roof with a soft thud to land in front of him, tail swishing as it looks up with its intelligent eyes into Yu’s. He meets them with a smile, patting the space next to him. The fox takes it, bounding up the stairs to settle in at his side, and Yu pets it, the fox keening into his hand.

“I’m so scared I messed up,” Yu confesses to it, scratching behind its ears as it leans his face up towards him in attention, blinking. Nonjudgmental, always listening. Perhaps that’s why people gravitate towards him as well. “I’m trying so hard, but things keep falling through the cracks. I have to try harder.”

The fox gives him a sympathetic look, tail swishing and brushing the side of Yu’s hips. He rakes his fingers down the back of its head, absent, enjoying its soft coat. “I don’t get another chance. I can’t lose track of things like that, not again. Not anymore.”

The fox rolls over for Yu to rub its belly, and he complies, scratching at its soft underfur as its paws go up into the air. He smiles at the way its tongue lolls out of its mouth slightly before it rights itself with a shake of its body and sitting up straight. Yu reaches to pet it like that, too, but it pushes its nose into its fur and produces, from seemingly nowhere, two emas, dropping them at Yu’s feet.

Yu laughs, a shallow, flighty sound he can’t control, but it’s sincere all the same, corners of his mouth pulling up further. “Right, I can’t forget about these, either,” he says, turning them over to read their contents briefly before pocketing them as a reminder. He’ll work on these in the coming days, and he has a list of items people around town need from the dungeons as well, assuring he’ll be able to keep busy for the townspeople, too. “Thank you.”

He reaches down to pet the fox again, but before he can make contact, he hears a rustling in the trees, forcing his head up from the ground. There, standing at the front entrance of the shrine in the shadow of a tree is Mitsuo Kubo, and Yu’s chest leaps, adrenaline rushing through his fingertips. He stands up to move towards him, but the second he catches Yu looking, Mitsuo bolts, running out the entrance of the shrine and disappearing around a corner.

With a brief wave to the fox over his shoulder, Yu darts after him, pushing steps against concrete as he takes the shrine exit at a sprint, barely managing to catch which way Mitsuo went up the street before he’s around another corner, Yu hot in pursuit.

“Mitsuo!” Yu calls after him as he sprints, taking another corner to follow him further into the residential districts. “I just want to talk!”

He’s about to catch him, he swears it, but Mitsuo rounds another corner, and before Yu can see which direction he goes, he’s gone, lost in the thick subsection of Inaba’s main housing district and leaving Yu standing completely alone, chest heaving with nowhere to turn.

The lowering sun rests heavy across his eyes, and after a few moments of standing there, like maybe he’ll come out if he waits long enough, reluctantly, he turns back around from the silence to head home.

A few days pass into August’s twilight, and Yu finds himself working at the pub late to pass the hours, hands covered in soap as the dull quiet of the bar swirls around him, when Adachi comes in.

He looks exhausted, deep circles under his eyes and tie already half-off by the time he wanders in, and he pulls it the rest of the way off his neck as he takes a seat at one of the barstools with a sigh.

“Yu,” he greets before he even acknowledges Old Lady Shiroku setting down a water and his usual order of beer in front of him, which he does with a lazy wave only after. “You’re out late.”

Yu just shrugs, finishing the last of his current set of dishes before drying his hands and making his way over to where Adachi sits, taking a sip of his own water down at the end of the counter. “So are you.”

“Yeah, well this Morooka case has gotten us all working double time,” Adachi says, taking a long, hard sip of his beer before exhaling and wiping at his lips indelicately with his sleeve, peering up at Yu over it. “What’s your excuse?”

“I just like to keep busy,” Yu shrugs, eyeing the clock above them. It’s late, the bar will be closing in an hour or so, and Yu’s duties for the rest of the night are limited—it’s usually around the time Shiroku will let him leave, if Yu ever desired. “The conversation’s sometimes good.”

Adachi laughs, just once, and reaches for his water, taking a much more measured sip. “You’re a real charmer.”

Something about Adachi’s presence fills him with energy, pulsing and demanding despite the late hour, and it suddenly sounds like the best idea in the world when he asks, “Do you want a break from all of it?”

“What do you mean?” Adachi asks, drinking his beer again. It’s more than halfway down already.

Yu lowers his voice, even though the only other patron is at the other end of the bar and Shiroku has moved to cleaning up tables around the bar in anticipation of closing now that she’s seen who the newest customer is. “I was planning on going into the TV after this, just to get some things. You could come with. Maybe look at Yomi now that you’re clean, so to speak.”

Adachi’s eyes widen a hair, but he just hums, leaning forward to facilitate their quieter voices as he downs the rest of his beer with a single sip. “I’d be interested,” he hedges, sliding the glass across the counter. Yu raises his brows to ask if he wants another, but he just shakes his head. “But are you sure you wanna go? You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine,” Yu insists, a bit more forceful than he would have liked to let on. He swallows, and tries again, softer this time. “I’m fine. It’s something I need to get done anyway, so I’ll go whether or not you do.”

“Then I’ll go,” Adachi replies, simply. Still, something in his eyes seems like a challenge, like he’s pushing Yu to back down, but Yu just smiles, feigning obliviousness as he turns and takes off his apron.

“Great.”

The problem is, Yu is exhausted.

He hasn’t slept a full night the entire month, and it’s beginning to wear on his bones, pulling him down heavy as he leads them into Yomi. His steps feel labored, his body moving slower than his brain is commanding it to, and Adachi fretting in his ear is not helping his state.

“Are you sure you’re alright with me being here?” Adachi asks as they push through the entrance into the first round of clearings, slowing his steps to match Yu’s as he speaks.

“Positive,” Yu says, for what must be the third time since he’s asked roughly the same question, rephrased at every step on their journey here. “There’s no reason to worry. Besides, I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Adachi snorts, rolling his eyes a little as he sighs, pushing his shoulders back. “I know that.”

Yu is burning out the last dredges of his energy, and immediately, it shows in his fighting ability. The shadows are still a breeze, but he finds himself clambering over wrong decisions made in his haste, switching to the wrong Persona or choosing the wrong spell left and right as he pushes through the battles. The first few earn a quip or so from Adachi, but after that, he goes quiet about it, Yu feeling the attention on it only in the slide of his eyes every time he miscalculates his attacks.

The deeper they get into Yomi’s depths, the more apparent it is just how unequipped he is to be making split-second decisions in the moment like this, running on these few fumes.

“Pay attention!” Adachi snaps after Yu gives a swing and a miss on a simple physical attack yet again, prolonging what should have been a one-round fight into damage they’ll have to heal.

“Sorry,” Yu offers after Adachi dispatches the Shadow, but not before he has a gash in his shoulder from its claws. He switches Personas to heal it, wincing at the way it stitches back up. “That’s on me.”

Adachi’s brow softens, hand moving to his healed shoulder to give it a roll, cracking his neck. “Just keep your head in the game,” he sighs.

It’s not a real problem, though, not until he runs up against the next Shadow. It’s a meager, petty thing, easy to hit but hits hard, so after Adachi takes away most of its health with a well-aimed attack, all Yu has to do is focus on hitting it with something, anything. His current Persona isn’t strong—more geared toward support—but it’ll do.

He misses. Yu stumbles forward, and the monster turns its face towards him, readying a blast of ice. Yu barely has time to register it before the element comes bursting at him, hitting his Persona’s weakness dead-on and sending him flying back into one of the trees like a sucker-punch to his chest.

He tries stand up to counter it, but before Yu can get to his feet, Adachi readies Magatsu-Izanagi. His face has gone hard, humorless in the light of the forest, and he holds out his hand to command the Persona, tall and purposeful. He snaps its name, and Magatsu-Izanagi raises its sword and tears through the Shadow’s remaining lifeforce with a single, vicious slash, ripping its body apart into an ooze of smoke and tar, merciless. Once it’s dissipated, Adachi dismisses his Persona and bolts over to Yu’s side. Yu struggles to get up, and his knees fail him, sending him crashing back down to the forest floor, wincing as his head collides with the tree.

“Idiot,” Adachi chides as he sits beside him, grabbing Yu’s bag from off his shoulders and reaching around in its contents. “I told you not to come tonight.”

Yu just gives him a shaky smile and a shrug. “Sorry.”

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Adachi mutters, pausing for a moment just to meet Yu’s eyes before continuing his search. “This is why this was a bad idea.”

As he talks, though, Yu can see his hands shake just a bit as he pulls out a case of medicine, lifting Yu’s shirt just enough to apply the balm to the ice burn welting across his abs. He sighs into the relief of it, feeling his skin heal and smooth over as it soaks in.

Yu just looks up at him, and smiles. “But I have you here, don’t I?”

Adachi’s hands falter over the ointment container, nearly dropping it. His lips part, just a hair, before his brows furrow and he makes a noise at the back of his throat, mouth curling. “Yeah, well, maybe I should just leave you here.”

Yu laughs, because with the warmth of the medicine spreading through him, it sounds so wonderfully ridiculous. “Yeah, but you won’t.”

Pushing himself to his feet, Adachi is quiet for a second at that, brushing the dirt off his pants and staring down at the ground before he says, decidedly, “No.”

Instead of walking away, he holds out his hand.

Yu takes it.

Chapter Text

Yu is running late, which is unlike him.

Well, it’s becoming increasingly more like him. It’s not that he means to do it—he’s just booked all the time lately, from morning to night, especially now with no school to interfere with his other obligations. Even his downtime, like this morning, is spent exploring the television world for odds and ends to complete random requests around town or whatever the emas command of him.

His friends agreed to meet at the gas station around one, and to his credit, Yu is only a little over five minutes later than that, rolling down the hill to see a line of scooters.

“Took you long enough,” Yosuke ribs him gently once Yu dismounts, putting down the kickstand and shaking his hair free from the helmet. Even Marie got here before him, standing next to Teddie as the only two without bikes of their own. Yu gives her an encouraging smile, turning it apologetic when she gives him a half-hearted glare.

“Lost track of time,” Yu says, and it’s mostly the truth. Time works differently in there, after all. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Rise dismisses, leaning up against her scooter and crossing her arms, kicking at a piece of gravel with her designer shoe. “We still haven’t even decided what we’re gonna do yet.”

Chie groans, sprawling across Yukiko’s scooter rather than her own, not that Yukiko seems to mind. “I can’t believe it’s the last week of summer,” she bemoans, rolling onto her back to stare up at the sky. “We gotta do something cool.”

Several of the others open their mouths to cut in or argue with the vigor of a conversation that’s been going in circles for a while, but before anyone can get in a word edgewise, a bell chimes from the building behind them and the gas station attendant appears from the store, adjusting his cap over his long hair. Despite how many times Yu’s passed through here, it’s been a while since he’s seen the attendant outside of his station, or at all, really.

“Just wondering if you kids need anything,” the attendant greets with a wave, sauntering over to where the group stands, garishly colored uniform catching the light. “Can I get you some fuel?”

The rest look at each other, but it’s only Yosuke that says anything at all to that, shrugging. “Sure, I might as well.”

Yosuke guides his scooter over to one of the open pumps, and the attendant hooks it up to the nozzle. He looks over his shoulder, curls bouncing across his narrow shoulders. “So, are you kids enjoying your summer?”

It’s quiet for a moment, but eventually, Yosuke takes the point. “Yeah, summer’s great.”

“Inaba’s so small, though,” Rise says, giving a polite laugh. “It’s hard to know what to do sometimes.”

“Ah,” the attendant remarks, turning to the group as he keeps one hand on the nozzle, watching the numbers on the gauge go up out of the corner of his eye. His smile curls. “The joys of youth with free time.”

Yu swears the attendant’s gaze finds his before he continues speaking. “But some exciting things have happened recently, haven’t they?”

Yu’s mouth feels dry, so he’s grateful he doesn’t have to be the one to reply to that. Kanji scoffs and says, “That’s one way to put it.”

“Maybe boring is for the best.” The attendant shrugs, and a click of the nozzle signals the tank is full. He pulls it back and returns it to its hook, humming, before something seems to catch his attention. “Hey, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

Yu follows his gaze over to Marie, half-hidden behind Teddie and clutching her head, shoulders slumped as she rubs at her temples. It takes her a moment to realize the attendant is even addressing her. “I’m okay,” she grits out after a moment, straightening up a little. “Just a headache.”

Her face is pale, but it’s enough to sound resolute, and the attendant nods. “Well, get some rest,” he advises with a wave of his hand, turning around to head back inside. “You kids stay safe out there!”

Yosuke’s wallet is still in his hand when the attendant disappears back into the corner store, payment never even taken. They linger a moment to see if he’ll remember and come back outside, but there’s only stillness from within, and eventually, the silence that’s fallen over the group begins to feel a bit discomforting.

“Are you okay?” Yu asks Marie, and like a spell, the quiet cracks, the group breaking out into muttered conversation behind him as Yu puts a soft hand to Marie’s shoulder. She shrugs it off.

“Yeah,” she says. She looks better than she did just a moment ago, the crease between her brows smoothing out. She rolls her shoulders back, crossing her arms. “It was just a passing pain, I guess.”

Yu frowns, but doesn’t push, glancing between the space the attendant just left and Marie, but finding nothing in the blankness. The others draw him back in before he can linger too much on it, resuming their old conversation right where it left off despite the strange gap left in the attendant’s wake.

“We could go to the mall in Okina again?” Rise suggests, twirling a strand of hair around her fingers. She already looks bored by the suggestion, but by the looks across everyone else’s faces, no one else has come up with anything more exciting, either.

“I can’t stay late,” Yu says after a moment, once he actually synthesizes her words. “I promised Nanako I’d be home for dinner. I told her I’d help her with her summer homework.”

“How is Nanako doing, by the way?” Kanji cuts in, apparently eager to move along the conversation to a different topic for the time being. “Since I bet Dojima’s been gone a lot.”

Yu tries not to wince and let the guilt show on his face. “She’s used to that, unfortunately,” he sighs, scratching at the back of his head. “I’ve been trying to spend time with her. It’s just hard between work and the investigation.”

“Why don’t we go visit her, then?” Yukiko asks, gently prying her scooter out from underneath Chie and forcing her to slump against her own. “Besides, working on homework isn’t a bad idea.”

Chie blanches. “Ugh, homework,” she scowls, before her face softens as she taps her toes against the gravel. “I miss Nanako, though.”

“I want to see Nanako!” Teddie exclaims, peeling off from Marie to tug at Yu’s sleeve as he bounces up and down on his heels. “We can eat watermelon! And blow bubbles!”

“That sounds delightful!” Rise exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Can we, please?”

Looking out at the faces of all of his friends, there’s no way he could say no.

Yu gives everyone time to grab their summer homework, despite some complaints from those hoping to skate it for another few days, before meeting back up at the Dojima household. He still arrives back first to Nanako, who is as pleased to see him as ever, and her delight only mounts as his friends begin to file back in, first with Yosuke and Teddie and then the others shortly after. Within only a few minutes, the house goes from quiet and demure to full of life, the others spreading their homework out over the table and across the living room floor. Teddie, Yosuke, and Kanji sit around Nanako while the girls take the couch and sprawl out with their papers, giggling to themselves. Yu has extra copies of all the homework given throughout the year already finished, leaving him with ample time to attend to cooking a dinner capable of feeding this many people. Thankfully, he figured he’d have them over at least once before the week was up—prior loops have always proven this true of late August—and he planned ahead, stocking the fridge with enough ingredients for katsu bowls for everyone present and then some.

He flutters between the kitchen and living room in between breaks in his prep to check on the others, their idle chatter and laughter filling his ears and chest with warmth. Every so often the girls try to offer their assistance as they get bored with their own work, but he shoos them each away with platitudes about having it under control—which is true—and then tries not to feel guilty when he lets Kanji play sous chef for a few minutes when he wanders in. By that time, thankfully, the girls are fully wrapped up in helping Nanako with her summer book report, crowding around her as she reads to them while Teddie leans half his body across the table to read along with her.

There’s soft afternoon light and a breeze coming in through the open screen door, and it’s moments like this that make the Dojima house feel like home, laughter ringing through the walls and the voices of his loved ones carrying all around him. He looks behind him to see more aimless talking than actual work, Nanako’s book report started but not quite finished and various papers across every surface, and quietly he makes his way to the hall closet. Eventually he finds what he’s looking for: a slightly water-damaged bottle of blowing bubbles that he’d completely forgotten about until Teddie’s suggestion. He sneaks up to the table—Teddie and Nanako deep in a philosophical conversation about the colors butterflies can come in moderated by a fascinated Kanji—and places the bottle right in the center, twisting the label to face out.

“Wanna take a break before dinner?” he suggests to the group, watching Teddie’s eyes go wide. “I have a watermelon I can cut up to tide everyone over.”

Nanako claps her hands in excitement, rising to her feet immediately. She’s the first to swing open the screen door and bound outside into the afternoon sun, twirling underneath it once her feet hit the grass. Teddie is the next out, bottle of bubbles in his hands, and he fumbles in his haste to twist off the top, but hands the wand first to Nanako. She beams, and the others follow them out as bubbles begin to fill the air, glistening in the light. Yu only knows how hard he’s smiling when the corners of his mouth start to hurt, and he turns away, returning to the kitchen to retrieve the watermelon from the fridge. He feels eyes linger on him, and he finds Yosuke still hovering in the living room and making his way towards the kitchen, resting a hand on the threshold.

“Need help, partner?” Yosuke asks, and Yu just laughs, not unkindly.

“Sure,” he says, gesturing to a spare cutting board and knife he’d just cleaned from dinner prep. “You can take one half.”

Together, they make quick work of the admittedly massive fruit once Yu cuts it in half, though Yosuke’s cuts are a bit more uneven. Yu tastes a bit to judge the quality, and it’s one of the best of the season, flavorful and sweet even without salt, though he makes sure to bring some for Kanji. When they bring it outside, the overflowing serving platter looks pitifully empty within minutes, with everyone alternating between blowing bubbles and eating watermelon, a pile of rinds slowly accumulating between them on the patio.

“Oh!” Chie says suddenly, cutting through the idle conversation. Everyone turns to her, even Teddie pausing mid-bubble to give her his rapt attention. “I just remembered that the fireworks festival is this week! We’re all going, yeah?”

“Wow, really? I totally lost track of time,” Yukiko remarks, eyes going wide. “But that sounds fun!”

She’s not the only one—time’s slipped up on Yu, too. Still, he swallows, and agrees, “Of course.”

“And we’re all going to wear our yukata, right?” Rise adds, leaning forward with her hands on the edge of the patio and legs swinging across the grass. “Oh, Nanako, you’re going to look so cute in yours!”

Nanako’s cheeks turn beet red, hands going to her face. “You want me to come with?”

“Of course we do!” Kanji insists, frowning, and then softening his expression when he seems to remember what he must look like in front of her. “You’ve gotta come.”

“Oh, yay!” Nanako claps, jumping up and down on the grass in excitement. “I love fireworks! I’ll have to ask Dad to come too, and Mr. Adachi!”

Yu’s heart skips a beat at the suggestion, the same feeling in his chest he always gets at a slight, but cataclysmic change. Looking around at the faces of his friends, no one else seems to think anything in that sentence is remarkable or amiss, everyone reacting with various nods and exclamations of agreement, unthinking. Like it’s normal to them. Normal, because it is, because Adachi is as much a part of their lives as any of the rest of them, and that…

Yu’s known that. He’s known that. But he doesn’t entirely know how to handle the implications of Nanako, in all her innocence and instinctual honesty, including him in something he’s always been incidentally excluded from—a tangible, clear shift in the matrix of how he occupies their lives, how he occupies Yu’s life, and more than anything, it feels…

It feels like light. Like summer.

It’s a perfect feeling, a bottled moment, and like all perfect, transient things, that afternoon eventually comes to fade. Light deepens and turns into night, and that night turns into morning, and Yu once again rises with the sun.

He’s always been a morning person, but it’s particularly difficult in the summertime when light seeps past his windows early into the hours, and he’s forced awake. Restlessness always takes him out and about, especially lately, and it’s a habit that’s been impossible to kick, it seems. He finds himself at the Samegawa by mid-morning, sunlight glittering on the water.

He tries not to think about Morooka’s body floating listlessly in the river as he approaches it, tries to think about anything else than how it got there.

He nearly turns back around, but luckily this morning, there’s ample distraction.

He finds Hisano on the bank, standing at the edge of the water with a lighter in her hand. There’s a stack of papers between her wrinkled fingers as she’s sending each of them up in flames, one by one, and Yu sighs.

“You shouldn’t do that, miss.”

“Oh.” Hisano looks up, pausing her lighting of the letter and burning only the edge of it before the flame flickers out. She barely sounds surprised. “It’s you. I wish it weren’t.”

Yu grimaces, but stands his ground. “Sorry.”

“I’m trying to forget him,” she says, voice crackling with age and something Yu can’t hope to name. “My husband. You look just like he did, you know. I might have said that before.”

Yu bites down the edges of a sad smile, if only because he’s fond of her, missed her all the years he never had time, and the guilt that fuels him continues to eat him alive. “You have. Why do you want to forget?”

She looks out into the river, and then starts to burn the letter again. Yu puts a hand on her shoulder, gentle, and she stalls once more, glancing down at the words on the page, wrinkled with what look like tear stains. “I’m glad he passed, I think. He wasn’t himself in the end. But honestly… I can’t remember that rage or grief anymore.”

Yu gently pries the lighter from her fingers, brittle, but with surprising strength and resilience. Eventually, though, she lets it slip into Yu’s open hand, and he pockets it, warm from her relentless grip. He keeps one hand over hers, lightly. “You loved him once, though, didn’t you?”

She crinkles the letters with her other hand, folding them up on each other. “I don’t know.”

“You must have,” Yu says, feeling, acutely, all the sadness radiating off of her in waves. “Or else it wouldn’t hurt this badly.”

Hisano looks up at him, but she’s looking through him, somewhere far off into the distance. Still, something twitches at her face, the ghost of an expression other than the gaunt mourning she wears like another veil. “Is that so, young man?”

“That you feel so strongly is proof it means something,” Yu continues, slowly taking the letters from her hands as well. She’s even more reluctant to give them up, holding so steady it feels like a fight even in the few seconds it takes Yu to slide the papers out from her fingertips. She watches him intently as he smoothes them over and folds them enough to fit in her dress pockets before handing them back, and as she turns them over in her hand, he’s half-afraid she’ll start ripping them to shreds, but instead, she just slides them into her pockets and stares out into the river. “And moving on, grief… is complicated. But you don’t want to erase him entirely, just the pain.”

“Spoken as only youth can.” She smiles at him, just a turn of her lips, pulled as if on a string, and for a second, Yu’s heart lifts, but still, she reaches into her hair and pulls out her comb. She looks at it, turns it over in her wrinkled fingers, and then tosses it into the river, floating upon the surface of the water as it flows downstream. “One day, you’ll learn.”

She turns to walk away back up the floodplain, but she smiles as she goes, the expression refusing to fall from her face as she turns.

Yu watches her go for as long as he can before she disappears from sight, then he turns back to the river, and sighs.

It’s still just there on the surface, bobbing slowly, and he’d probably be able to grab it if he wades into the river—but just as he starts to roll up his pant legs, an all-too-familiar gaping golden koi mouth breaks the surface and sucks the comb down.

Yu sighs again, long-suffering, and steels himself to catch the Guardian.

Before he can even think about fishing, though, he hears more familiar voices carry over the plain, and he turns back around to see the frames of Eri and Yuuta walking side by side, arguing something tense from the tone of their voices. Yu stalls at the riverside, listening as they come in to earshot across the walkway.

“I’m sorry, Yuuta,” Eri pleads, and though Yu caught the child’s voice, he couldn’t make out the words that prompted this response, as common as it is between them. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. I’ll buy you anything you want. A ball? A samurai sword?”

Yuuta stomps into the open area of the floodplain by the stairs, and while he’s oblivious to Yu’s presence, Eri catches his eye. Still, it’s only a flicker before her gaze returns to her step-son, obstinate and hurt.

“I don’t want anything!” Yuuta objects, stamping his foot on the ground and balling his hands into little fists. “I’m going home without you!”

Just like that, he takes off into a sprint down the walkway, and while Eri takes the first few steps to chase him, she loses heart before she’s out of Yu’s eyesight, and after staring at the space where he’d left for several seconds, she turns around to face Yu, hands clutching one another across her chest.

“Rejected again,” she sighs as she makes her way down the stairs, dress flowing with her steps. She meets Yu’s eyes sheepishly, but he just gives her an encouraging, understanding nod, keeping his expression sympathetic. “I never know what he wants, and he runs away before I can ask. I’m sorry you always have to see this.”

“It’s alright,” Yu says, because it is. It’s hardly the worst he deals with in the realm of family drama.

Eri tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, tossing her gaze down to the grass. “Honestly,” she sighs, before looking back up again. “What am I supposed to do?”

Yu considers various ways to word what he’s thinking. “I think he just wants your attention and understanding,” he says simply. “He just doesn’t know how to say it, because you’re both scared of approaching each other.”

Eri nods at this, considering his words as she bites her lip. “That makes sense.”

“But, if you’re really looking for something,” Yu continues, pretending to wrack his brain for ideas. “I hear kids really like Featherman R these days. Just because he might want something different when he’s hurting doesn’t mean you can’t still reach out by surprising him with something he might like.”

Eri gives out a little laugh at this, her face tinged with slight amusement. “I’ve seen advertisements for that,” she smiles, turning to look once more in the direction Yuuta had run off towards. “Thank you, Yu.”

Slowly, she starts to follow her eyes back up the stairs and in the direction he came, waving to Yu as she goes, and leaving him to look down at his phone for the first time in what feels like hours.

He has more errands he should run, if he wants to make it back home on time.

Surprisingly, Dojima is home for dinner for once, but Yu knew he had to be sometime this week—or at least hoped no “insignificant aberration” would change his ability to broach the subject of the festival. Nanako is both relieved for his presence and anxious in it, shifting uncomfortably in her seat right up to them sitting down to eat, while an oblivious Dojima reads the paper until Yu calls him to the table.

After a few bites, Yu squeezes Nanako’s knee gently under the table and spares her the trouble of having to say it herself. “We have something to ask.”

“Oh?” Dojima raises his eyebrows, patting at the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “What is it?”

Before Yu can even get a word in edgewise, though, Nanako puts her hands on the table and blurts out, “Will you and Adachi go to the fireworks festival with us?”

Yu hides his expression behind his chopsticks as Dojima scratches at his beard, Nanako’s eyes wide and pleading, but with a distinct edge of uncertainty she’s more than earned. For a minute, Dojima is quiet, humming, before he says, “The fireworks festival, huh? What day is it?”

“August 30th,” Nanako exclaims, jumping up out of her seat to go point at the calendar on the wall for clarification, glancing until she finds the day and putting her index finger to it. “See! Please?”

“Well,” Dojima hedges. “I don’t know, that week is tight.”

Nanako’s eyes go wide, pleading, as she tugs at Dojima’s sleeve, bouncing on her heels. “Please, Dad,” she begs. “We never get to do anything all together as a family!”

Yu feels his chest pull again with the damning, silent implication. The word feels so heavy as it echoes in Yu’s head, compared to the light, easy way it passed from her lips. Family.

Eyes rest on the side of his head, and he looks up to see Nanako staring at him, prompting for his help. “It’s just one night,” he says. “Both you and Adachi deserve to take a break.”

Dojima scratches at the back of his head, sheepish. “The 30th…” Dojima sighs. “Alright. I’ll let him know we’ll do it.”

Before his words can even hang in the air, Nanako throws her hands up, dragging Dojima’s limp arm along with her as he’s taken by surprise, stumbling back a little. “Yay!” She exclaims, swinging her father’s arm at her side. “It’s gonna be so fun! Thank you thank you! There’s gonna be fireworks and ice cream and candies and—”

“Okay, okay,” Dojima laughs, using his free hand to ruffle her hair with a small, fond smile, tired at the edges, but with all the warmth Yu knows he can put into it. “I’m sure it’ll be amazing, sweetheart. I’m excited, too.”

Yu feels some of it blossom in his chest, too, but there’s only so far his trust in Dojima is willing to extend, old enough now to know not to get his hopes up every time. There have been loops before where he just doesn’t come at all, leaving Nanako in Yu’s stewardship all night, and this time, if neither of the officers come…

Well, Yu’s above getting crushed that way. He has to be.

It’s drizzling when the clock strikes midnight, and Yu’s still awake, because he rarely sleeps more than a few scant hours these days. Even when he tries, he stares at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of rain outside. He turns on the TV, because he has to. He’s trained to, at this point.

But tonight he sees… Nothing. Nothing he can make out, anyway. It’s a humanoid figure, of course, it always is, but the features are too obscure for even Yu to discern, no defining features or jutting corners in the silhouette to give away who might be underneath the shadow. No matter how long he stares at the static, nothing pulls at him, and with no frame of reference, he’s left clueless.

“I think it’s fine,” Yosuke drawls when Yu calls him, and though he doesn’t sound completely certain, he’s passing it as confidence. “Other people have appeared on here with no consequence, right? Besides, it doesn’t even look like anyone.”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” Chie concurs when she calls him, Yukiko’s soft agreement in the background. “It’s supposed to rain for the next few days, so maybe it’ll get clearer? As long as it doesn’t rain on the festival. I’ll be so mad.”

Logic says that should be the least of Yu’s worries, but he finds that anxiety spikes in his chest at the thought of that, too. “Right.”

Sleep eludes him for a while longer, and when he finally catches it, morning comes too soon, and it’s up and about again for another day, with no shortage of errands to run. He circles to Junes first before swinging back home to drop off the groceries and then head back out, and what begins as a relatively quiet and efficient day soon descends into one much more packed.

Kou and Daisuke are sitting outside Aiya when he passes by, flagging him down to share in the latest team gossip, and Yu stops at Souzai Daigaku to say hello to shy Ayane, whom he’s only passed a few times in the halls this loop, ducking her head meekly in response.

He heads to the shrine, thinking he might be able to pick up another ema and turn in the one he just completed, but instead, he sees Sayoko sitting on the steps, arms slung across her knees and a cigarette between her fingers.

He’s tired, running on fumes, but he approaches, and gets her attention. “What are you doing here?”

She glances up at him, looking about as worn as he feels, if not worse. “I just lost a patient,” she explains.

“I’m sorry,” Yu says, because there’s nothing else to say to that. He sits next to her on the steps.

She sighs and stares at the ground. “I can’t do this anymore,” she says, flicking ash from her cigarette and taking another long, shaking drag. “Not when they all leave. In one way or another. I mean, what am I even doing here?”

There’s not much to say to that either, but Yu turns it over, and says, “If you no longer see personal meaning in nursing, that’s okay. But only you can tell yourself that.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Sayoko scoffs, but then she shifts, and only then can he see her eyes are rimmed with tears. “Maybe I should just let it go.”

“I don’t think you really want to leave, though,” Yu continues, gentle. “I think you’re a good nurse that cares a lot. You can’t blame yourself for these things.”

She brings the cigarette back to her lips. “You think so, huh…” She smiles wryly, looking out past the horizon. “Thanks.”

Yu nods, rubbing at his own weary eyes, and stands after a silent moment, leaving her to her own quiet contemplation.

Once outside the shrine, ema stealthily deposited, he continues up the hill to the textile shop. Entering lands him face-to-face with Ai and Yumi, deep in discussion over yukata, and they whirl on him, demanding Yu’s deciding opinion. He flounders for a minute under their expectant gazes and eventually picks the one with purple accents, to the delight of Ai, and though Yumi argues, she looks secretly pleased.

The two girls finally clear out, leaving just Yu and Mrs. Tatsumi in the store. She greets him with a kind wave, but seems to understand he’s on a mission, only engaging him in light conversation about school and her son as he searches the shop. The yukatas are on full display for the festival season—arrays of brightly-colored fabric and brilliantly-woven patterns lining the front racks—but Yu has his eyes on something a little bit more understated. He doubts his recipient will be happy with anything too loud.

He pushes through the options until he sets his eyes on a gray yukata, layered with crossing lines of fabric underneath leading up to the collar. Though more demure in color, it’s no less attractive than the others, subtly changing in its grays with the light. It’s narrowly cut, so Yu guesses it’ll fit him easily. He brings it to the counter, and Kanji’s mother lights up.

“Another gift?” she asks, and Yu feels his face flush just a hair.

“Another gift,” he confirms, but says nothing more on it.

He’s halfway to his wallet when a bolt of dark blue fabric catches his attention, and he’s struck by the thought of someone else who wouldn’t have something nice to wear to the festival.

“One last thing,” he tells Mrs. Tatsumi, and he moves to the display of girls’ yukata. His hand drifts to one he thinks is her size, and is suitably somewhere between moody and elegant. He adds it to his purchase.

With a few more pleasantries, he’s on his way, and though exhaustion says he should stop after dinner and stay home for the night once he’s served it to Nanako, he has obligations to fulfill even after that. He makes a quick dinner of soba, helps her with a little last bit of homework for an hour or so, and then packs back up to head off to Shu’s house for more tutoring.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” Shu eventually snaps, after stumbling through the same paragraph in his science textbook his mom is having him do problem questions out of. “...Sorry.”

Yu can relate to that. “Why not?”

“There’s just so much expectation,” Shu sighs, folding his skinny arms and resting his head on the desk. “From everyone. And do you remember that transfer student I told you about?”

He’s mentioned him a time or two in this loop, but Yu’s memory goes back further than that, which is lucky. He’s blurring so much together already as it is. “Of course.”

“I can’t let him get ahead of me.” Shu pushes himself up with a huff, staring down at the textbook again, his hands balled in his lap. “I can’t let anyone get ahead of me, but especially him.”

Yu understands it—the pressure, the need to perform, the expectation. He just hums, sympathetic.

“But I’m tired of only talking about school,” Shu says, staring up at the ceiling before turning to Yu slowly, inquisitively. “Maybe we could talk about something else.”

“Yeah,” Yu says, recalibrating to the only other thing that’s on his mind. “Are you going to the fireworks festival?”

Shu frowns. “Maybe,” he mutters, tapping his finger to his chin. “I wonder if Mom would be okay taking off a day of studying.”

“You should talk to her about it,” Yu urges, nodding when Shu looks at him with skepticism. “I think she’d let you.”

Shu looks down at the papers across his desk, then at the late hour gleaming from the digital clock. “Do you think she’d want to go with me? It’s been so long since we’ve done things together.”

“I think she would like that,” Yu replies, soft, but confident. “If you ask.”

He looks cautiously hopeful, and Yu understands that too.

After finishing up tutoring for the night, Yu makes his way back down to the riverbank, hoping it’s not still too late to fetch Hisano’s comb from the Guardian. He rarely ever tries this hard, anymore. But he has to now.

He’d grabbed his tacklebox while he was home, and he sets up by the river, even though the moon is high in the sky. If all is correct, it shouldn’t take too long.

Except for it does. Every fish he reels in is the wrong one, and though he sees the Guardian swimming underneath the surface, comb in its mouth, he can’t get it to bite. He casts his line again and again, but still, nothing comes up, and his frustration mounts. No matter what bait he fixes to his hook, it simply won’t go for it, perhaps too uncomfortable with the comb sticking out of its gills. He has half a mind to jump into the river and fish it out himself, but he’d never survive the current.

“Why isn’t it working,” he mutters to himself, pressing his forehead against the pole as he grits his teeth. “I usually have it by now, why is it taking so long?”

“Yu?”

Whirling, Yu finds Adachi standing out on the floodplain above, staring down at Yu with an expression obscured by the moonlight. He descends the stairs when Yu catches his eyes, and as he gets closer, he can see his eyebrows are furrowed, but confused concern lights his features.

“What are you doing out here so late?” Adachi asks, standing with his hands on his hips above where Yu sits, his pole still in the water.

“Fishing,” Yu replies, for lack of a better explanation. “Not much luck.”

“You should really turn in,” Adachi says, folding his arms. “It’s the middle of the night.”

Yu looks down at the taunting water, then at Adachi’s face, creased and pinched and tired from a long day’s work himself, and sighs. “But…”

Adachi clicks his tongue, nudging at Yu’s hip with his boot. “How long has it been since you slept? Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

However slight, the contact brings him back to reality a little, tingling out from the point of touch and anchoring him back to the pier. He reels in his pole, baitless and empty, before folding it up reluctantly back into his bag. Adachi seems pleased—or a bit more so than he was a moment ago—and it spurs Yu on, leaving the river behind him.

“Did you just get off?” Yu asks, which is an admittedly dumb question.

It’s returned appropriately with a scoff. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Yu gives a hollow half-laugh, rubbing at his nose. The bugs are noisy tonight for the late hour, the trees alive despite the quiet of the roads. They dive through a neighborhood shortcut, too covered by the darkness of the night to bother anyone. “Dojima’s still there, I’m guessing?”

“You know that, too,” Adachi replies, stifling a yawn. They turn onto the Dojimas’ street, the flickering light above them illuminating the harsh, handsome lines of Adachi’s face. “He’s worse than you. Well, maybe.”

“I’m that bad, huh?”

Adachi just stares at him as they approach the house, eyebrows cocked and lips parted slightly before he shakes his head. “Yeah, you could say that.”

Adachi lingers as Yu unlocks the door, and Yu pauses, remembers, and spins around on his heel, beckoning him in. “I have a present for you.”

The step Adachi takes inside is more hesitant than it usually would be. He’s used to wandering in when he walks Yu home half the time, but something about Yu’s eagerness must spook him, and he closes the door behind him with some reluctance. “A present?”

Yu nods, kneeling down to reach into his bag and pull out a delicately wrapped parcel covered in decorative tissue paper, signature to Tatsumi Textiles, affixed with a simple ribbon. He’d had her wrap it for the sake of travel, but it makes a pretty picture now with Adachi’s conflicted expression as he takes hold of it limply. He tugs at the ribbon, but before he pulls it free, he asks, “What is this?”

“Like I said,” Yu smiles, standing again. “It’s for you.”

With open skepticism, but a glint in his eye that no frown can fully cover, Adachi pulls the ribbon and lets it fall to the floor. Slowly, he peels back the tissue paper to reveal the light gray fabric underneath, and he puts a thumb to the surface, running his finger across the threads. He unfolds the garment, holding it up against him.

“A yukata?” Adachi asks, like the words are foreign on his tongue. “For me? Why?”

“Dojima probably hasn’t told you yet, has he?” Yu shakes his head. “You’re going to the festival with us. You have to fit the part, yeah?”

Adachi’s expression is half-obscured by the fabric itself, and inscrutable for the part Yu sees. It’s soft, though, the corners of his eyes upturned with surprise, and his lips quirk when he says, “You really didn’t have to buy me one.”

“Everyone else will have theirs,” Yu insists, playing with the edge of the material. He meets Adachi’s eyes over the collar. “You should try it on to see if it fits.”

Yu knows it will fit, and fit well. That’s not the point. Adachi clutches the yukata to his chest, pulling it away from Yu’s grasp. “Now?”

Looking him up and down, Yu shrugs. “Why not? Just try it on over your clothes.”

Adachi fumbles a bit with it, spinning it around in his hands and pulling it on one sleeve at a time, struggling initially with its layered collar. When he finally pulls it across his chest, it accentuates his waist where the folds of the outer layer meet, and Yu stares. It fits him like a glove.

When Adachi goes to tie the obi, Yu reaches out and puts a hand on his wrist instead.

“Let me tie it,” Yu offers, dropping back down to one knee. “It’s easier to get it right when someone else does it.”

“I can do it myself,” Adachi starts to insist, but when he looks down to meet Yu’s eyes, he halts, swallowing. Silently, he holds the material in place, watching as Yu wraps the obi around his waist. Yu takes advantage of the pause to drag it across his hips. The fabric balls in the corner with the curl of Adachi’s fingers, five subtle lines warping underneath Yu’s hands, and he ties the knot with an attention that has him moving achingly slow. He can feel Adachi’s deep breath beneath his fingertips as he works, and Yu rests his hand on Adachi’s hip for just a second after he’s done, touching and flattening the knot long after he’s certain it’s sturdy.

“There.” Yu blinks up at him, offering a small smile. Adachi just stares, a bit slack jawed, and Yu has to press away, has to stop himself from taking anything more. “You look great.”

He does—it cuts all the right angles, highlighting his sharp narrowness and elegant lines, and Yu made the exact right call on the color and style. It suits him, not too open but with enough edge to escape modesty, and the color brightens him rather than washing him out. Adachi twists on the balls of his feet, examining himself, and eventually says, simply, “Huh. Not bad.”

Yu pushes himself back up, appraising him. “Not bad at all.”

Adachi takes it off slowly, undoing Yu’s precise knot with delicate ministrations, like opening a package, before peeling it off his shoulders and folding it back up into a careful square. “Well. Thanks, I guess.”

It’s more a gift for Yu, in the end, but he doesn’t say that part.

Without any time to waste, Yu returns to the river the next day.

He’s not alone, though. As he pulls up to the pier, he sees the familiar figure of Taro Namatame sitting and reading by the river, hunched over his latest novel. It’s far from the worst company Yu could imagine, so he bounds over to him, greeting him with a wave when Namatame turns at the sound of approaching footsteps.

“Hello, Yu,” Namatame greets, putting a finger in his book to hold his place as he twists around. “Good to see you here.”

“Likewise,” Yu returns with a smile, taking a seat next to him. Up close, despite their previous conversation, Namatame’s eyes are a lot clearer, his face less worn. It’s a good look on him, better than the hollow shell of a man he’s seen before. “You seem well. Would you like to fish with me?”

Namatame shakes his head, opening up his book again. “I didn’t bring anything with me. I’ll just watch.”

Yu fixes his hook with the finest bait he’s managed to grab from Shiroku, adjusting his line before casting it out. They sit together in silence as Yu attempts to avoid any smaller fish nibbling on his line, before eventually, Namatame turns to him and says, “You look tired.”

Yu reels his line in, irritated at the lack of immediate success, though he still sees the Guardian swimming beneath the surface, occasionally poking up from the depths. “Do I?”

Namatame scours him as if he sees something Yu doesn’t. “Usually fishing seems to relax you.”

Yu looks down at his pole. “Not great luck today.”

“You’ve just started,” Namatame frowns, as if Yu doesn’t know that. “What’s got you so stressed? Entrance exams?”

Despite himself, Yu barks out a single bit of harsh, but genuine laughter, the feeling foreign and not unpleasant after so many days without it. He hasn’t thought about entrance exams in a long time. “Yeah, something like that,” he sighs after the feeling has subsided. “Just a lot going on.”

Something in his eyes tells him Namatame doesn’t buy it, but he just hums, returning to his book and flipping the page. After a few seconds of silence, Yu fruitlessly casts his line back out into the river.

“What are you looking for?” Namatame asks after several more futile minutes. “You aren’t pulling anything in.”

Frustrated, Yu baits his line with the first thing he sees, uncaring, and yanks the slack out of his line. “I’m looking for something called the Guardian,” he explains, casting his line back out into the river without really looking. “It took something important, so I really need it—”

Just as soon as he says it, he feels a massive tug on his line, enough weight on it to yank him forward. With surprising spryness, Namatame jumps to help Yu hold on, taking the middle of the pole and pulling back as Yu attempts to reel in the gargantuan beast on the other end of his line. Eventually, with both of their strengths combined, they manage to drag the bright gold Guardian from the depths, typhooning river water onto both of them. The comb is right there between its gills, and after some wrestling, they’re able to gently pry the comb out from its mouth.

“You must be lucky, Mr. Namatame,” Yu grins, holding up the comb like a trophy after tossing the fish back into the water. “I’ve been trying for ages.”

Laughing, Namatame attempts to wipe off some of the water droplets from the cover of his book. “I’ll accept it if I was able to help you get something important.”

“You did,” Yu assures him.

Exhausted and a little sick of fishing, he packs up to go home. Just as he’s leaving the floodplain, though, he sees something he’s been hoping, praying he’d see for too long: the one last piece of the puzzle that’s been holding out on him, and his relief crashes over him in waves.

A flash of a navy blue cap through the trees.

If memory serves him, which is an increasingly shaky bet, Dojima will be home the night before the festival when he says he will be. Either way, it justifies a trip to Junes that Nanako desperately wants, and when he proposes to take her along and cook it together, she twirls with excitement before disappearing into her room. When she comes out, she’s dressed in her full Detective Loveline costume, complete with her magnifying glass and cap.

“Dad told me you have to really inspect the produce,” she declares, standing proud and tall with her hands on her hips, shoes already on her feet and ready to go. “And that’s a job for a detective!”

“It sure is,” Yu agrees, putting a hand around her shoulder as he guides her out the door.

She’s bouncing with excitement the entire way there, pointing her magnifying glass every which way, inspecting insects and blades of grass as they walk to Junes. She insists on picking out the best possible cart for them, thankfully only a few stacks back, and when she’s satisfied, Yu lets her put a hand on it to help guide it throughout the store. Yu’s following Nanako’s lead, only half-alert, when he not so much as sees but nearly runs right into that same navy blue cap.

“Oh!” Nanako exclaims, pulling the cart back from where they almost knock Naoto Shirogane’s lithe frame, inspecting the selection of apples. “I’m sorry!”

“No, excuse me,” Naoto says, putting their hand up and giving a light bow. “Detective Loveline.”

Nanako beams, but for once, Yu’s too distracted to revel in her joy, eyes locked on the side of Naoto’s face. He doesn’t move when Naoto turns to him, either, nodding without a hint of recognition in their eyes. The eye contact is too much, he’s immediately aware of it, but he doesn’t know what to say, and he can’t let this moment slip away from him entirely. “I haven’t seen you around before,” he says, trying not to sound too desperate.

“I just moved here,” Naoto explains, turning back to the apples and pulling one from the center of the pile.

“My name’s Yu Narukami,” he offers, just to get it on the record, just to get it in their head. He holds out his hand, and after a cautious beat, Naoto takes it. “Are you a Yasogami High student?”

“I will be.” They smile slightly as Nanako turns her magnifying glass on the apples, trying to find one for herself. “I’m just here with my grandfather to do some casework.”

“Casework?” Nanako asks, lighting up at the familiar vocabulary. “Like a detective?”

Naoto’s smile widens just a bit, but it’s still measured, even as it softens for Nanako. “Sure.”

Nanako poses proudly. “I’m a detective too!”

Surprising to maybe even themself, Naoto laughs—a small, delicate thing, but one nonetheless, leaning down a bit to be at eye level with Nanako. “You sure are.”

Naoto looks briefly back up at Yu, but with nothing else rationally to say, all he can do is watch them walk away back down another aisle, apple in hand.

If Yu plays his cards right—which he will, because he has to—they’ll work together again.

He and Nanako split up temporarily to grab the last few things they need, both to give her a sense of independence and to hide his lingering smile. He’s not gone long, just popping into another aisle to grab a few more small ingredients, but when he returns with the cart to the produce section to collect Nanako again, he turns the corner, and his blood begins to boil.

Trembling, Nanako is pressed up against the chill wall as Mitsuo Kubo leers over her, snatching the last pack of tofu from her hands.

“Playing dress-up, huh?” Mitsuo sneers. “You think you’re funny?” He tosses the pack into his basket. “I was here first. Rude brat… I’ll teach you to respect me—”

He can barely get the words out before Yu’s on him, slamming his hand against the wall and shielding Nanako, demanding, “What’s your problem?”

At the sight of him, Mitsuo’s eyes go wide, and with another curl of his lips, he bolts, disappearing down through another aisle of the store faster than Yu can yell after him. He stares in the space he left, a hand on Nanako’s shoulder as he smoothes over her costume and gathers her into his chest. She seems a bit shaken, but otherwise none the worse for the wear, and Yu sighs.

So much for getting closer to Mitsuo Kubo.

Still, though, what’s done is done, and perhaps what’s done is for the best. It’s difficult to convince himself to spend time on someone who’d treat Nanako like that. There’s little time to think about it either way, because when he and Nanako finish their shopping trip soon after, they have to head home and start making it, too. Making dinner with Nanako means it’s hard to stay upset at much of anything, even when Dojima comes home haggard and with a look in his eye that churns Yu’s gut.

He says nothing while they cook, though, and for a minute, Yu almost convinces himself everything might be fine. It’s only when they’re sitting down to eat it that Dojima speaks in more than pleasantries at all, and when he does, he does so with a measured sigh into his words, and Yu knows what’s coming long before he really opens his mouth.

“So, sweetie,” Dojima begins, and he can feel the shift in Nanako too as she stills at his side mid-bite, already bracing herself for what’s coming next. “I don’t know if I can get tomorrow off after all.”

LIke a flower left out dry in the sun too long, Nanako wilts, setting down her chopsticks slowly as she curls into herself, fists balled in her lap. “But Dad, you said…”

Yu knows Dojima can feel his eyes on him, but he doesn’t even acknowledge him with anything more than a brief glance and another full-body sigh.

“I know, sweetheart,” Dojima says, shaking his head. “I know. But we just got a couple of reports of burglaries.”

Whatever excuse he was about to continue to give, Nanako cuts it off with the clatter of her plate as she pushes to her feet. “I don’t think I’m hungry anymore. Sorry.”

Before Dojima can get a word in edgewise, she disappears back into her room, slamming the door and leaving Yu and Dojima with no one to look at but each other. He wilts in his own way, guilty and ashamed, but Yu’s grown tired of this charade, and it’s long enough in the loop, especially this one, that he’s honest.

“I know it’s hard,” Yu starts, folding his hands on the table, his own hunger subsiding as well. “But you’re going to break her heart if you keep doing this. You know that.”

“I wouldn’t expect a kid to understand,” Dojima snaps, jerking his body to angle away from him, but instantly he seems to regret it, putting a hand to his mouth. He stares at the wall rather than Yu until he regains his composure enough to face him again. “Sorry. That’s not fair. You work hard too.”

Yu’s unfazed by both the initial response and the apology, calmly continuing with his train of thought. “You’re deepening a rift, here,” Yu warns him. “And if you go back on this, you might not be able to repair it.”

Dojima puts his elbows on the table and rubs at his temples, leaning his head down into his hands. He exhales, muttering, “Maybe I could get Adachi to do the paperwork.”

As calm as he’d been about Nanako—it’s a speech he’s had and rehearsed many a time—it flies out the window at this suggestion, replaced with something hot, insistent, and angrier than he’d like to be. He hears his hand on the table before he realizes he’s put it down, startling Dojima into looking up. “You can’t go back on that, either!”

Frustratingly, Dojima doesn’t seem to get it. He never does. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve told him from the beginning that he’s supposed to be one of us, too,” Yu blurts out, feeling it bubble up from somewhere deeper and older. “You told him he has a place here, so you can’t just treat him like family only when it’s convenient. It’s not fair.”

It looks like Dojima’s about to argue, his eyebrows furrowing as he straightens up a little and glowers something fierce at Yu, like he’s hit at something he doesn’t want to touch. But within seconds, it fades into resignation as he seems to think the better of it, shaking his head. “You’re right. We’ll just have to… try harder to get it done. And if it doesn’t, it can wait.”

“Good.” Yu lightens, just a little, because that’s all he needed to hear. “Nanako will be happy.”

“You’re right about that, too,” Dojima concedes, looking defeated, but at least graceful in it. “That’s important.”

Yu nods, and looks at him sidelong, and realizes, not for the first time, that parents are just people. “Please don’t miss these moments while she grows up.”

Dojima’s eyes widen at that, softening at the corners. “When did you get so wise for a kid?”

Yu just shrugs, because it’s better than saying he knows from experience.

August slips away, and the 30th comes.

Dojima and Adachi are at work into the late afternoon—no surprises there—but he’s able to invite the rest of the gang to the Dojima house early to get ready, his friends trickling in until his living room is bustling with activity. The girls have already spent the entire day getting ready at Rise’s apartment, in their yukata when they arrive, but the boys are much less prepared, each of them ducking into the bathroom one by one to change once they arrive.

Yu helps Nanako into hers in the middle of the shuffle. It’s a delicate, pink piece that’s just a little short on her from her growth in the past year, but it still looks adorable on her—a sentiment the rest of the group loudly echo once he fixes her hair and she twirls around the living room.

“I love wearing a yukata,” Teddie declares once he’s changed into his own, spinning around the room in an echo of Nanako. “It’s so freeing!”

“That’s one way to put it,” Marie mutters, arms wrapped around her chest. Yu had gone to visit her earlier in the morning to make sure she knew the plans, only to find that the rest of the girls had already thought to include her in their own, snagging her up from the side of the Shopping District. He adjusted his own plans, dropping his gift for Marie off with Rise, much to the girls’ delight. The result, if Yu does say so himself, is stunning: it’s a brilliant navy blue with black and silver detailing up the sides, ornate but understated, and it brings out the color of her eyes. “It’s a bit… loose.”

“That’s the point,” Rise says, draping her hands around Marie’s shoulders in a blatant show of casualness that Yu’s stunned she doesn’t shrug off. “You look gorgeous, too.”

Marie flushes, but doesn’t argue.

As they gather up to start heading to the festival, Nanako insists on staying behind to wait for her dad—something they all treat with more than a little trepidation. Still, she’s stubborn when she wants to be, so there’s very little that can be done in the face of her steely resolve.

The rest of them make their way down towards the shrine, their laughter and chatter filling the waning summer air with warmth. The festival is already in full swing, booths lining the open space and the aroma of food greeting them long before the lights are visible. The entire town seems to be there, with residents of all ages and creeds taking in the ambiance of the festival, crowded and lively.

It’s overwhelming in a good way, and they’re immediately swept up in it—the girls disappearing off in one direction while Teddie pulls Yosuke and Kanji in another, and Yu smiling to himself as he follows them. They meander their way over to a dumpling booth and get in line, Teddie babbling excitedly about all their prospects.

About halfway through the line, Yu catches sight of a black veil through the trees, and with a short apology to the others, he tears off after it, pulling the comb out of his pocket.

“Hisano!” he calls after her, weaving his way through the patrons while trying desperately to keep her in sight. He catches up to her before long despite her attempts to evade him through the crowd, and when he finally catches a light hold of her arm, he offers her a smile despite the frown across her brows. “I found your comb!”

“My…” she begins, turning to him with caution. She looks him up and down before settling on the comb in his hand, and her narrow eyes widen into something younger, something innocent. “I can’t believe it. I thought it was gone forever.”

Yu laughs a little as he holds it out. “I have my ways.”

Slowly, her wrinkled fingers take it from his outstretched hand, and she turns it over, something inscrutable and deep coming across her features. “Thank you, young man,” she says, and it sounds lucid, genuine. A tear escapes and is lost in the folds of her wrinkles when she looks at him, clutching the comb to her chest. “I cried when he first gave this to me, too. I really did love him, didn’t I?” She shakes her head, looking up. “I can tell this was a lot of work.”

“It’s nothing,” he lies, and he opens his mouth to say something more, to ask her about how she’s feeling now, but he hears a shout from behind him—a familiar, young voice—and Yu can’t ignore it. With another swift apology, he turns back to the main stretch of the festival and tears off in the direction of the sound, finding Eri and Yuuta at the center of a parted crowd, as well as another young boy and his mother.

“How dare you say that!” Yuuta screams, shoving at the other boy’s chest. “That’s my mom!”

Yuuta’s riled up beyond anything Yu’s ever seen even from him, glowering hard at the other boy. He gets up in his face only for the other boy to shove him back, hard, and as Yuuta stumbles, his feet kick out and catch the other boy in the shins. Yuuta, unable to catch himself, crashes right into Eri just as the other boy falls into his own mother, and all four of them slam into the harsh ground. Eri gets the worst of it, her head hitting the concrete and beginning to bleed almost immediately. Without thinking, Yu pushes through the onlooking crowd in search of someone else he knows is there—Sayoko.

Sure enough, she’s lingering in a line for some takoyaki, and when Yu explains the situation, she’s on her way in a flash. He leads her over to where the four are still gathering themselves on the ground, Yuuta hovering over his step-mother in worry, and Sayoko quickly gets to work.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuta apologizes, first to Eri, and then to the other boy and his mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t,” Eri says, reaching out for her son’s hand as Sayoko begins to affix a bandage to the side of her forehead where the minor wound springs from, wiping it down with alcohol from her first aid kit as she helps Eri to sit up. “It’s okay.”

Once Yu’s sure the situation is under control, he decides to leave Sayoko to her work, and mother and son to each other; he peels away again, searching the crowd for his friends.

Instead, he finds Shu, wandering the festival alone with his hands in his pockets, and well, that won’t do, either. Yu feigns ignorance as he walks up to him, greeting him with a wave. “Are you here alone?”

“My mom couldn’t get the day off,” Shu explains, staring down at the ground as he rubs at his nose. “It doesn’t matter. This place is lame anyway.”

“It’s not all that bad,” Yu says, guiding him towards the back of the shrine area, where a handful of kids around Shu’s age are also meandering and loitering. “There’s lots of games here to pass the time, too. Maybe you can team up with one of these guys.”

Shu frowns, but Yu watches his eyes follow curiously across the area. “I think I see the transfer student.”

“You should go talk to him,” Yu encourages, putting a hand briefly on his shoulder before dropping it, just enough to get his attention. “Maybe you’ll have fun together. He seems lonely, too.”

“Yeah,” Shu says, which is more of an agreement than Yu anticipated, even if it’s mumbled towards the ground. Still, his eyes are looking out. “Maybe.”

Satisfied with the amount of initiative he’s showing—if he wasn’t going to do it, he would have already left—Yu turns to go, but before he does, he catches him and offers, “Oh, by the way, happy birthday, Shu.”

“Oh… Thanks.” He smiles, just a tiny sliver of a thing, but it’s enough.

Finally, Yu manages to catch sight of his friends, and before anything else can distract him, he makes his way over to where they’re all gathered by the mochi stand, along with, surprisingly, Dojima, Adachi, and Nanako.

Nanako clutches her father’s hand as she looks up to smile at something Adachi’s said, and Yu’s heart squeezes. He tries not to stare at the way Adachi’s yukata fits his body, but he feels his lips twist up when he notices the skew of Adachi’s belt.

“How long have you been here?” Yu asks as he bounds up to them, the rest greeting him with enthusiasm.

“A few minutes,” Adachi says around a takoyaki ball stuffed in his mouth. He swallows it before continuing, “Where have you been?”

“Yeah,” Yosuke cuts in before Yu can even reply, elbowing Yu gently in the side. “Where have you been? You should get some food, you’re looking a little pale.”

That’s one thing Yu can agree on—food. He suddenly realizes he’s famished. “I should.”

“Come on.” Adachi nudges at his shoulder, shoving another takoyaki ball in his mouth. “Let’s go find you something.”

Adachi leads him away from the others before Yu can say anything else, but with Adachi at his side, he still feels the knot between his shoulders start to loosen. Adachi guides them to a skewer booth, and the smell dizzies him almost immediately, the line thankfully shorter now that it’s later in the evening.

“You look beat to hell,” Adachi remarks under his breath as they stand to the side, waiting for their orders.

“I’m fine,” Yu says, dismissing him with a flick of his wrist. “I’m fine. But—here.”

Yu ushers them off farther into the treeline before dropping down to one knee again, quickly moving to readjust Adachi’s crooked obi. Adachi’s silent above him as he works, holding his yukata closed while Yu reties it. When he’s satisfied, Yu glances up at Adachi, who quickly looks away, tugging at his collar and gesturing somewhere behind Yu’s shoulder.

“I think yours is ready,” he says after clearing his throat. “You look like you need it.” Yu lingers by Adachi for only a second before he turns around to take his skewer from the shopkeeper with thanks, immediately placing the first piece between his teeth.

The rest are exactly where they left them when they return, and even Dojima chats and laughs among them as they stand in a circle, taking up a rather large part of the grass and a bit into the walkway.

“I still can’t believe you’re wearing a yukata, Adachi,” Rise laughs as they approach, licking at a popsicle. Her gaze sweeps over Adachi and down to his neatened obi, then rests on Yu only briefly, her smile curling. “You look so elegant.”

Adachi puts a hand to his head, scratching at his hair as he turns away. “Yeah, well,” he says. “Special occasion and all.”

“Very special,” Nanako agrees with a wise nod, moving to stand at Adachi’s side. “You have to wear a yukata for fireworks!”

It seems like completely sound logic to Yu, who laughs as Adachi pats her head. At the mention of fireworks, Teddie exclaims, “That’s right! They’re about to start!”

“I know a place away from the crowd we can watch them,” Yukiko offers, gesturing behind her towards the lookout area. “It’s just up the hill.”

Adachi blanches a bit at the prospect of a light hike, but the view they have when they reach the top is absolutely worth it. They’re above the entire town up here, looking over the valley and the shrine down below, the lights dotting the hillside like flowers in a field. They make it just in time before the fireworks begin, still settling in their spot when the show starts.

As the others watch and exclaim at the show of light and sound, Yu stands quietly and soaks in it, letting the brightness and flashing colors wash over him in waves. He can feel Adachi’s presence at his side, equally quiet, only offering quips and thoughts here and there in tune with the others, and mostly just a calming sentinel.

The chatter of his loved ones passes him by as he stares out into the town he’s called home for years, completely in the sound. It’s always lasted so long in previous loops, but here, it’s somehow sinfully short, taking up only a sliver of time in comparison to the rest of the night, though his friends talk as if it lasted a lifetime. They make their way down to the booths again, a much shorter walk than it was on the way up, and return to the festival proper, the fireworks now a fading echo in Yu’s mind.

As soon as they reach town again, Dojima elects to take a sleepy Nanako home. Yu has half a mind to join them and pass out as well, but as soon as they’ve stepped back into the glow of the booths, he’s suddenly caught up in a flurry of people, another revolving door. This time, Shu finds him first, flanked by his mother and another young boy his age, and he bounds up to Yu with significantly more energy than he started the night with, a ghost of enjoyment across his features.

“My mom came after all,” he explains, adjusting his glasses. “And you’re right, Haruto and I played a game and we’re friends now, I guess—you know, the transfer student.”

“That’s great,” Yu says, and means it. In the distance, he can see the rest of his friends fluttering around to another booth, though Adachi stays at his side, lingering just a little behind with his arms crossed against the side of an adjacent stall.

He waves goodnight to Shu and his new friend, but as soon as they disappear, Sayoko finds him next, rushing over with a solemn, but determined look on her face. “I’m happy you thought to rely on me,” she says as she greets him, taking his hand in both of hers. “Helping them reminded me of why I do this, as silly as that sounds. It meant a lot.”

“Of course,” he replies, gently dropping their hands, aware of whose eyes are watching. “I’m glad I could help.”

“You always do,” she says over her shoulder as she disappears, leaving Eri and Yuuta in her wake as they, too, make their way past him towards the festival exit.

“Thank you for helping my mom,” Yuuta says, his hand intertwined in Eri’s as she visibly fights emotion off her face at the word.

“Any time,” Yu promises as they pass by, nodding at Eri.

Looking up after they leave, his friends are now nowhere to be seen, but Adachi’s still standing right beside him, arms crossed and an uneasy expression across his features, tapping his fingers against his elbow as he appraises Yu.

“No wonder you’re exhausted,” he says after a few beats of silence, after both of them are really sure no one else is going to need his attention.

“They needed help,” Yu explains with a shrug. “I just did my best.”

Adachi rolls his eyes, lifting away off the stall and crossing over to Yu, sighing as he regards him up and down. “Let me ask you something. What do you want to do?”

“Well…” Yu starts, looking over his shoulder to see his friends now on a different side of the shrine entirely, examining the rows of games. “It seems like everyone else wants to stay a bit longer.”

“No,” Adachi cuts him off, and it’s snappy, closing Yu’s jaw on command, something about it authoritative and inarguable. “What do you want, Yu?”

He can see the even rise and fall of Adachi’s chest when he hangs his head, and the objections die in his throat, swallowed up by exhaustion. The noise of the festival is a dull roar, echoes of places he’s needed growing distant and fading by the second.

He looks up, pinned like a butterfly underneath Adachi’s knowing gaze, and the last of his willpower withers on the vine. There’s nothing left in him but the truth. “I want to go home.”

The corners of Adachi’s eyes soften. “Okay.”

Adachi informs the rest that he’s walking Yu home, since they live in the same direction; despite their disappointment, they take one look at Yu and wave the two off, telling Yu to get some sleep.

The house is still when they return, and a note from Dojima on the table details that he and Nanako have already gone to bed. Yu turns on the dim kitchen light, Adachi quiet as he slowly toes off his shoes in the entryway.

“Do you want something to drink?” Yu offers, mostly to cut into the silence that’s fallen between them. They didn’t discuss whether or not Adachi would stay—Yu’s tired, so it would make sense for Adachi to ask—but he doesn’t, and Yu’s grateful he doesn’t have to explain why Adachi isn’t part of the world he wants to shut out tonight. Adachi leans against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“Do you?” Adachi asks, arching an eyebrow.

Yu mirrors his expression, hesitating over the fridge door. “Are you offering?”

“The boss is asleep,” Adachi whispers, gesturing for Yu to step aside so he can open the door instead. He holds out two cans of beer before swinging it closed again, pointing one towards Yu. “It’s just us, and I won’t tell.”

It’s been just them plenty of times, but it’s rare for him to offer, so he’ll take it. He misses the buzzing feeling and something to do with his hands, the way the world goes slightly numb. “Thanks.”

Adachi eyes him up and down, a lazy, slow draw of his eyes, before clicking his tongue and pulling the tab on his, keeping his gaze narrowed on Yu as he takes a sip. “Just, don’t overdo it,” he cautions with a curl of his nose. “I know you’re a natural with it and all, but the last thing I need is you puking on me.”

Yu can handle his alcohol, at least in his limited experience. He pops the tab on his own can and takes a drink, the taste bitter and abrasive. “I’ll be careful.”

Yu props against the counter as Adachi drinks again, and Yu can feel his focus on him still. Yu meets his gaze, questioning, and Adachi just shrugs, lowering his drink. “Do you want to like… sit somewhere? You still look wrecked.”

“Yeah,” Yu says, mouth dry. “Can we sit outside? It’s a nice night.”

The kitchen feels too small, the four walls of the living room too confining, and the fresh air always does good for the pounding at his temples.

Adachi crosses his arms, scratching at the back of his neck. “Sure,” he agrees. “You have something to sit on?”

Yu nods. “I have a blanket in the hall closet,” he says, taking another measured sip as he moves past Adachi in the narrow kitchen, brushing his shoulder inevitably as he goes, the fabric of his yukata falling a little farther down his own.

He pulls out a quilted multicolored blanket, thick enough to protect from the wood of the patio. He holds it out, and before he can look up, Adachi is there to grab it from him, their fingers grazing as it exchanges hands.

Yu leads the way outside, not bothering to turn on the porch light before opening up the sliding glass door. The light through the living room should be enough, and the light will only attract bugs, anyway. Adachi spreads out the blanket across the patio, some of it dangling off the edge. Yu doesn’t particularly feel the need for it, but he still nestles himself squarely in its parameters, leaving no choice but for their thighs to touch when they sit on it side by side. Adachi doesn’t seem daunted by it, sinking into the slight touch with familiarity.

They sit together in easy silence for a while, looking out to the skies still cloudy with firework smoke, the summer air warm between them. Insects chirp in the trees, and in the distance is the dull clamor of the festival winding down. Above it all, Yu listens to the gentle slosh of beer in their cans as they tip them back intermittently.

“You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself,” Adachi eventually mutters. “This whole… thing.”

“What whole thing?” Yu asks as he drinks, even though he thinks he knows. Adachi drinks along with him, his throat working over the liquid, and Yu swallows.

“This charade you always pull,” Adachi clarifies, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand. Yu shifts under his scrutiny, the edges of his yukata dragging low against his chest, the fabric haphazardly loosened from the energy of the night. “Where you run around and do everything for everyone.”

Yu doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just sips at his beer and says, “I’m fine, though.”

Instead of replying immediately, Adachi slams back the rest of his beer in one go. He crushes it with one swift motion before narrowing his eyes at Yu and standing up, making his way back into the kitchen. Yu watches him as he opens up the fridge again, and he returns holding two more cans of beer, producing one for Yu. He’s still not completely done with his first, but he takes it anyway, downing more for good measure.

“You’re obviously not,” Adachi continues as if there’d been no pause at all, cracking open the tab on his beer and taking a gulp. “Did you even get to enjoy the festival, or were you too busy playing the local hero?”

As if on cue to rescue his train of thought, a straggling burst of fireworks, probably from some local teenagers, cuts through the soft sound of bugs and wind. He can’t see it, but he can hear it. “I got to see the fireworks.”

“I was there for that,” Adachi rolls his eyes, crossing his legs. The motion pushes their legs even further together, Adachi’s knee pressing into his thigh, but neither of them flinch. “That doesn’t count. What about everything before?”

Yu’s quiet at that, finally reaching the end of his first beer in the silence, forcing it down in one go. Still, he’s quick to open his second, something about the way Adachi’s watching him like a hawk, sharp eyes and ceaseless contact, that makes him crave a bit less of an edge. “It was important.”

Adachi sips at his beer, unimpressed. His eyes flicker down to Yu’s chest, and something about it makes them stay there for a long second before he pulls back up. “You always say that. Are everyone else’s problems really that important to you?”

Yu turns the can around in his hand, staring down at the shiny surface. He’s hot everywhere Adachi’s touching him—all down his legs, his shoulder, his arm when Adachi sways into him as he drinks. “I don’t know,” he admits, his tongue loose with alcohol. It’s barely a buzz, but it’s hitting him hard. He drops his volume, fiddling with the can with his fingers. “It feels like if I don’t, the world will crash around me.”

Adachi leans into him as he takes another sip and asks, sincerely, “Why?”

Yu shakes his head, drowning his thoughts in sour liquid. “I don’t know that, either,” he says, swinging his legs off the side of the patio and drawing circles with his bare foot in the grass. “I just think if I have the power to make people happier, I have an obligation to use it. I…” He tests the way his next sentence feels in his head first before saying it out loud, and finds the truth too loud and painful to ignore. “I need to be needed, I think.”

There’s a pause, then another crinkle of a beer can getting crushed, followed by a sudden, insistent, “What if I said I needed you?”

Yu blinks up at him, searching Adachi’s face. He’s flushed, even from just two beers, and his eyes are a bit unfocused, but trained clearly on Yu, searching, serious. They’re all but pressed flush together now, and something about Adachi’s expression folds him like paper, his breath catching. He forces himself to meet Adachi’s eyes. “Do you?”

Adachi’s eyes flicker down briefly before roving back up, his tongue flicking over his dry lips. “Just say I did.”

“Okay,” Yu breathes, trying to get some space to think with his beer can to his lips. But he doesn’t have to think hard. “I’d ask what it is you needed, and I’d do it.”

“Really?” Adachi asks, hardly above a whisper. He scoots an inch closer on the patio, pressing them until they’re shoulder to shoulder. “You’d just do anything because someone asked?”

“If you asked,” Yu clarifies, because the distinction feels important. ‘Anything’ isn’t something he reserves for everyone.

Adachi shakes his head, but his eyes stay on Yu’s face, lingering as he flickers his gaze across it, like he’s trying to read him like a book. Yu tries to open up, but even he doesn’t know what’s underneath. Doesn’t know what he wants to show underneath. “You can’t just go saying shit like that.”

“I mean it,” Yu says, fighting the slur that’s creeping in. He downs the rest of his own beer in one go, sets it aside next to Adachi’s. “Anything you want.”

Adachi's pupils are blown when he looks up. “That’s careless,” he remarks, a hand to the patio right next to Yu’s hip. “Remember what you said.”

His eyes are half-lidded, too flushed for only two beers. Slowly, he traces his hand around the neckline of Yu’s yukata down, down, until his fingers are gripping the v it makes across his chest, and surely by now he can hear Yu’s thundering heartbeat, or feel it beneath his fingertips.

Adachi breathes in, murmurs as his knuckles brush across his collar, “You’re ridiculous.”

This close, he can feel Adachi’s breath ghost across his skin, and he looks up only to find him looking down at his lips. His chest flips, like a warning, like the jump before a freefall, and the distance between them disappears inch by inch, but it’s still a surprise when Adachi’s mouth presses against his.

A surprise, because he’s never kissed him before. Not first.

Yu breathes into it, a sharp inhale, and it’s all he has room for before the air is swallowed up as Yu opens for him. Tentative, shaking hands make their way down his exposed chest, and he shivers, Adachi’s soft lips working against his own, parting, more movement than finesse. The pressure of everything—the festival, his friends, the kidnappings—disappears until there’s nothing but the two of them underneath the light from the window, Adachi’s hand winding into the fabric, his teeth nipping ever so gently at Yu’s bottom lip. Yu keens, twisting to allow him access, and he takes it, pressing past his teeth to kiss him deeper. He blindly grabs at Adachi, pulling him in even closer, their knees knocking.

Yu doesn’t want it to end, and can feel the same fervor from Adachi, tongue caressing the inside of Yu’s teeth, fingers fisted in his yukata, but eventually, they have to come up. Adachi breaks it first, panting as he wipes his mouth with the back of his free hand, shaking. Yu just sits back, staring at the flush across his cheeks, the labored rise of his chest, and the shine of saliva across his reddened lips. His attention is unblinking and trained right on Yu, and something flickers in his eyes Yu doesn’t want to see.

Adachi’s already reaching for the back of his head, a fake smile ready at the corners of his mouth, and Yu can imagine it now: the way he’ll laugh it off as drunkenness, or that he can’t believe Yu fell for it, and then he’ll run.

“Yu…” Adachi starts, but it’s too close to a question instead, and Yu still doesn’t want to hear it. He crosses the inches of distance they’ve put between each other and kisses him back, pulling Adachi forward by the collar. He catches himself with a hand on Yu’s knee as he leans in, eyes still wide when Yu closes his. He kisses him hard, forceful and desperate, and Adachi responds with one he feels all the way down to his toes. The hand tracing his chest dips lower, beneath the fabric to graze his upper abs, and Yu gasps into the touch, muscles contracting. He brushes his thumb against Adachi’s collarbone, earning him a shiver.

Adachi kisses him again and it feels like fire seeping into his gut, like the first few breaths after almost suffocating, and Yu clambers closer to him to chase the insistent push in his chest, his knees around Adachi’s. He pivots so they’re facing each other as Yu rises up on his knees to kiss back with even more leverage, reaching to tilt Adachi’s face up. He smooths his hand over the side of his face, his neck, can feel his throat move when he swallows down another bruising kiss. He tastes vaguely like candy from the festival but mostly like him—human, alive—and he’s dizzy from it, like a hit after years of sobriety.^X

Yu doesn’t know how long it lasts before Adachi pulls back again, but this time, his expression is wrecked in a way that flips something dangerous in Yu. Before Yu can reach out, Adachi’s hands are on him again, pushing the loose shoulders of his yukata down. Their eyes meet, and Adachi’s are hungry, dark even in the light, and Yu shivers as Adachi lowers down into the space between Yu’s neck and shoulder, teasing it with his teeth. Yu hisses as he bites into the sensitive skin, but it feels good more than it hurts, especially with Adachi tracing down his abs. Yu holds him around his narrow waist, and Adachi leans into it until they’re chest to chest as Adachi continues to kiss a path down, messy and rough.

He winds a hand in Adachi’s hair, the other holding him close. Adachi just presses in further, shoves his yukata apart, and brings his teeth across his chest. Yu’s certain he can feel his heart racing as he mouths it, fingers digging into the flesh. His breath hitches as Adachi’s tongue rolls over the hollow of his throat, and Yu’s hand reflexively tightens in Adachi’s hair.

“Fuck,” Adachi groans. He rolls his hips into Yu’s, just once, and he wonders if it’s even voluntary, but it ignites inside him, lust swirling low as he steals another kiss and pushes past the underlayer of Adachi’s yukata. The fabric falls down past his shoulders and opens up his chest, narrow and pale. Slowly, Yu steers Adachi down to the floor of the patio, and he follows his hand down evenly, like a dream, until Yu can cage him with his knees and press another bruising kiss to his lips, one hand on either side of his head.

“Wait,” Adachi says, turning his head away just in time for Yu’s lips to collide instead with the side of his face before he pulls away with a snap, leaning back. Adachi just shakes his head, tugging him back in by the nape of his neck. “No, it’s just. Your uncle.”

“Sleeps like the dead,” Yu offers, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw, awed that he’s just able to. That he’s just letting him. Adachi exhales into it. “And his room faces towards the garden. Nanako’s faces the other side.”

Adachi’s hands reach for Yu’s back, but he doesn’t pull him in, just leaves them there, holding onto the falling yukata. “What if they come down?”

Yu looks out to the yard behind them before pressing another kiss to his parted lips. “Then let’s move to the lawn,” he decides softly. “Just out of the light. Bring the blanket.”

The look on Adachi’s face is puzzled, like he can’t believe this is happening, either, and that—Yu doesn’t know what to do about that but kiss him again before climbing off him, just enough distance to allow Adachi to slide out. Yu leads them into the yard, relishing in the cool dampness of the grass until he finds a spot just outside of the light where he gestures for Adachi to lay the blanket down.

“Now,” Yu says once it’s settled. “No one will see us here.”

“Good,” Adachi breathes, and then they’re tangled in each other again, a mess of limbs and teeth on skin and Yu wants every inch of him.

He wastes little time returning to what he was doing, leaning over Adachi until he can press him back down against the blanket, kissing him as they move until Adachi’s back is to the ground and Yu’s over him again, this time hovering close enough to feel the press of Adachi’s erection through his yukata. It drives him crazy, unable to stop himself from grinding his hips down so Adachi can feel his own, and the man underneath him sucks in a breath at the contact, wrapping his hand around the back of Yu’s head and holding him by the hair as they kiss, messy.

Yu lets Adachi distract him for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for him to remember his mission. He switches to kissing down the side of Adachi’s jaw to his neck, relishing in the breath-caught noises he gets in return when his teeth graze the skin. He moans and arches when Yu pushes the yukata aside to kiss down his chest, finding his right nipple and licking his tongue around it. Yu traces his hands everywhere he can reach, moving down to kiss his stomach, and then reaches for the tie of his yukata.

“Yu,” Adachi says, but Yu’s too busy untying his own masterpiece of a knot, all his focus on not ripping the fabric in his haste just to get it off. Eventually, he manages to undo the obi, and finally, he’s able to push the fabric away, tugging down Adachi’s underwear to reveal him in full, dick hard and bobbing against his lower stomach. He’s gorgeous like this underneath the stars, just enough residual light from the window to see one another, and Yu is grateful for it as he stares at him like never before—open, raw, flushed. He’s never seen anything he wants more.

He wants to show him, so he lowers himself and wraps his lips around the head of his cock—not too big, but enough that Yu has to work to swallow him down, his mouth already filled with the taste of precome. Adachi inhales sharply, one hand curled in the blanket; then Yu hollows his cheeks and sucks, tongue caressing the head, and immediately, Adachi’s other hand flies to fist in Yu’s hair.

“Yu,” Adachi tries again, but there’s a whine that underlies it, spurring Yu on as much as the uneven twitch of his hips as he continues to lick at him. The hand in his hair is almost painful, but it pulls groans and hums from Yu’s throat, tugging in time with Yu taking him as far as he can. He writhes a little beneath him, chasing Yu’s mouth, but the yank in his hair is abrupt and insistent. “Fuck—Goddamnit, Yu, stop it.”

His chest goes cold, like he’s plunged in freezing waters, and he pulls back immediately, staring up at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” Adachi sighs, leaning up to follow with his hand still in Yu’s hair. He gathers Yu into his chest, and he looks wrecked, wide-eyed and breath labored. Yu hates the distance Adachi put between them suddenly, wants to continue to tear him apart. “I just—stop it. Stop trying to do everything.”

Yu starts to object to that, but his words are swallowed by another harsh kiss, and then disappear completely when he’s the one getting pushed onto the ground. Adachi crawls over him, tongue licking at his teeth as his yukata finally falls the rest of the way off his shoulders, leaving him bare to the night. Yu reaches for the curve of his ass, pulling him in closer so Yu can grind up into him, feeling every inch of him he can touch. Adachi leans over him, chest to chest, as he begins to make his way down the side of Yu’s neck this time, harsher and more biting than Yu had been but it feels amazing, leaving him panting.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Adachi chastises from somewhere over his chest, kissing a harsh line down between his pecs. “Always taking care of everyone else, always doing everything. Just take for once, okay? Just shut up and take.”

Yu doesn’t have a chance to reply to that before Adachi’s hands are on his own belt and tugging, much less delicate than Yu had been as he works it off. He pauses to eye the tent Yu’s making in his underwear, and Yu’s almost embarrassed until Adachi pulls that off too, harshly enough that it might have torn if Yu hadn’t lifted his hips. Eventually, he’s free, and Yu’s dick is open to the night air, harder than he’s certain he’s ever been and exposed underneath Adachi’s gaze. His eyes course over him with a hunger that makes Yu twitch from need, and Yu threads his fingers in Adachi’s hair as he continues mapping his body, just as Yu had done to him.

Adachi hesitates when he reaches Yu’s cock, taking him in one hand and staring like he can’t quite figure out what to do now that he’s here. Yu lifts himself onto his forearm and starts, “You don’t have t—” and then Adachi is tonguing a stripe from base to tip. He licks his lips consideringly, then does it again, and the sight alone has Yu throwing his head back, hand on Adachi’s nape like a lifeline.

He finally wraps his lips around Yu, slow and unpracticed, and he distantly wonders when he’s last done this, if ever. Yu’s own sexual experience begins and ends with the man in front of him, but it strikes him in some moments that Adachi’s still lived a life outside of the one they’ve made together, that someone else might have taught him how to do this. Jealousy, unjustified, swirls in his gut and he winds his hand tighter in Adachi’s hair, canting his hips up into his mouth to chase the sensation.

Adachi chokes around him, and he tries to take him deeper still. He can’t take him all the way, but the heat still feels incredible, tight and warm, even as his teeth scrape slightly. Yu shivers at the feeling, not altogether unpleasurable. He presses circles to the top of Adachi’s neck, encouraging as he works him up and down. The pace is uneven as Adachi struggles for air, but his enthusiasm dizzies Yu, focused like he’s trying to tear him apart just as much as Yu wants to, like he wants this. Yu slots his legs around Adachi’s waist, pulling him in, hand guiding his head. He can hear himself—little moans and cut off gasps, but he doesn’t have the heart to stop, especially when they seem to drive Adachi further. What Adachi can’t fit into his mouth he eventually works with his hand, saliva dribbling from his lips to the base, and Yu whines as he starts to find a rhythm, the sound obscene.

“Adachi,” Yu warns, because he’s getting uncomfortably close. He wants more than this, and his impatience outweighs his youth. He tugs lightly on his hair, and Adachi comes off of him with a pop, lips reddened and spit-slick, flushed from exertion and naked hunger. It’s too much for him, so he brings him up for another messy kiss, and Yu can taste himself on his lips.

Yu moans, and Adachi moves slower, staring down at Yu like he’s really seeing him for the first time tonight. His eyes sweep over him, lingering on his dick, his abs, his hips, but when he finds Yu’s gaze, he rests there, his eyebrows stitching together. Yu just watches, stunned by how beautiful he looks, stunned by his own hands on his hips.

“You want this,” Adachi whispers, awed and shaky despite his words not being a question at all. “You actually want this.”

“Tohru,” Yu breathes before he can stop himself. “Of course I do.”

The world stops.

Adachi’s hands go slack as he leans back on his heels, and Yu’s certain of what’s next. He’ll reprimand him, go cold—he can already see it in his eyes, the way they’re turning like he’s calculating how far he can get away from him.

But it’s just a flash, and when it’s gone, Yu wonders if he imagined it entirely, because instead of running, Adachi leans in, and when Yu gets him up close, his pupils are blown, lips parted in soft shock.

“Say that again.”

“Tohru,” Yu repeats, putting everything in his chest into the word, every bit of fear and need and reverence he can summon into his voice. It’s foreign on his own tongue from so long in disuse, but he’s always been Tohru at the edges of his mind, just far enough away to remind them of what they are. It’s only the drink and the heady want that gives him away, but saying it now feels like liberation. Like fresh air. “Tohru.”

“Fuck,” Tohru swears, and it’s incredible how quick Yu makes that switch in his mind, like he’s never been anything else to him. Tohru. “Fuck.”

He grinds his hips down hard, and Yu inhales sharp, arching into it and meeting his lips again, kissing him desperately. There’s unspoken emotion on Tohru’s tongue, and Yu wants to lick it clean. Yu babbles out a litany when Tohru slots their lips together and rocks, incoherent mutterings of, “Right there, Tohru, please.”

It’s not enough, though, not nearly enough; it’s making him greedy, and Yu drags Tohru’s hips down further into him, clawing at his back. He doesn’t have to say anything, though, because Tohru murmurs, “Where do you keep lube?”

Yu’s heart skips as goosebumps erupt in the wake of Tohru’s touch. “There’s some in my room, in the desk. I can get it.”

Tohru shakes his head, pressing a hand down on Yu’s chest for good measure. “I got it.”

Leaning back, he searches the grass for his yukata before shucking it over his shoulders just enough for some semblance of decency, pressing a kiss to Yu’s neck before he gets up and turns towards the house. Laying in the grass, Yu’s spinning, dizzied and so turned on he can barely function.

By the time Tohru returns, Yu’s gone chilly in his absence, the air cool without the press of skin. He returns to him immediately, draping himself over Yu with a tiny bottle in his hand. He kisses him again, nipping at his bottom lip and working the bottle open with one hand, leaning back just enough to deposit some of the liquid onto his fingertips.

Looking down at Yu, his eyebrows quirk. “Have you ever done this before?”

Yu tells the truth. “Only been with you.”

“Shit.” Tohru looks away, barking out a single, harsh laugh. “Sorry it’s with me.”

“Don’t be,” Yu commands. “God, don’t be.”

Tohru watches Yu’s face as he spreads his thighs farther apart, slicked fingers searching and just a bit uncertain as he reaches Yu’s entrance. He’s delicate when he pushes into him, sliding in his finger carefully and evenly, fucking him open slow as Yu tenses at the cold intrusion. It’s been so long, and the first time was nothing like this—he was nothing so gentle, nothing so focused and measured. Yu feels like he’s being pulled apart from the attention, and he keens into the push and pull, grinding up into him as Tohru leans down to catch his lips again.

“I can take more,” Yu tells him when the sensation becomes more frustrating than pleasurable.

“You’re so tight,” Tohru hisses, breath warm across the shell of Yu’s ear, but he slowly presses another finger up into him to join the first. Yu lets out a small, strangled whine, half from the stretch and half from how much more he immediately wants.

As his fingers scissor inside him, pressing against his walls, Tohru’s other hand moves to work up and down his shaft, and Yu cries out, pushing himself into the touch. He leans his head back, exposing the column of his throat, and Tohru kisses the hollow of it, working his fingers apart.

“Please,” Yu whines, because he doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. “Please, I need you, I need you inside of me so bad.”

“Calm down,” Tohru responds, pressing his fingers farther into him, just shy of the place that would make him come apart. Yu writhes, but Tohru pulls back, working him wider. “I’m trying not to come immediately, alright?”

Yu makes an incoherent noise in the back of his throat as a third finger works its way in, and he can feel his body contracting around it, pulling it in, a rush of heat building up hard inside of him. “Please,” he begs again, because he’s already coming apart. “Tohru, please, please fuck me.”

“Fuck, you’re filthy,” Tohru remarks, squeezing lightly around his dick and smearing precome as three fingers open him up wide, the burn nothing but a dull ache. “Who would have thought?”

“Just want you,” Yu pants. No one else gets to see him like this.

Tohru kisses him again and rewards him with a brush of his fingers against his prostate, and Yu whines into his teeth, digging his heels into Tohru’s back. His fingers slide out, and Yu shudders at the emptiness, though Tohru only pulls back just enough to lube himself up, watching Yu with narrowed eyes.

Whatever Tohru finds on Yu’s face, he shakes his head and presses himself up against Yu’s entrance, teasing a stretch. Tohru cages him with his body, slowly rocking into him, hand absently smoothing Yu’s hair. Yu can hear him gasping as he enters, arms trembling. Despite all the prep, it’s a different sort of sting, and it takes Yu’s breath away, voice catching on a strangled groan of, “Yes.”

“Yu,” Tohru moans, visibly restraining himself from thrusting to give Yu the chance to adjust, but it’s nowhere near deep enough for him yet. It burns, and distantly, he realizes slow is good, but he pushes needily up into the heat anyway. “Ah… fuck—Yu, slow down.”

Yu whines when Tohru falls back, keeping the angle from going too deep. He makes a noise of protest in his throat, but Tohru puts a hand on his thigh to keep him still. “Just… just give me a second.” He breathes in deep. “I’m gonna come if you’re not careful. Let me adjust first.”

It takes every ounce of patience Yu has, but he waits for Tohru to slowly sink into him again, enjoying the show of his flushed face, strained in focus and pleasure as he bottoms out. Yu sighs, finally full, and barely catches himself before he cants his hips up hard.

“Move,” Yu whispers, because he’s about to shatter.

Then he does.

It rends him immediately, the feeling of being filled and taken. Tohru moves slow at first, and when Yu whines with need, he picks up the pace, snapping his hips and arching Yu’s back off the blanket. He digs his heels deeper into Tohru’s ass, pulling him deeper, raking his nails down his back as he presses into him again and again, a bead of sweat rolling down Tohru’s neck. Yu leans up to lick it off, creating a new angle that makes his eyes roll, panting against his skin.

“So good,” Yu tells him, desire coiling like a brand in his gut. “So good, Tohru, you feel amazing.”

Tohru hushes him with a kiss, more contact and teeth than actual finesse, and Yu keens into it, pushing himself up in time with Tohru’s movements to get the deepest angle, his dick driving against the spot that makes him melt over and over. An array of noises and mangled breaths are wrenched from his throat no matter how hard he tries to keep quiet, the pleasure and the intensity like a tidal wave he’s getting dragged under, and he doesn’t want to come up for air.

Tohru’s above him, in him, everywhere, and when Yu looks up, his face is intent on him, startlingly sober and lucid, lips bitten raw. Yu feels the same—even with the blur still at the edges of his mind, he feels wholly present, chained to the moment by the firmness of Tohru’s body in his arms. They kiss just to kiss, their mouths pressing aimlessly together.

Tohru breaks away to breathe and pull Yu by his knees farther into his lap, using a hand pressed into Yu’s chest for leverage as he rolls into him. Gradually his hand creeps upward, across Yu’s collarbones until it rests on his neck, half curled around his throat and his thumb dragging across Yu’s swollen lips, almost in fascination. He tightens his grip—not enough to hurt, but enough that Yu can feel the pressure when he swallows, can feel his own rushing blood and the blooming fuzz at the corners of his vision. Yu moans, helplessly, fisting at the blanket. “Tohru…”

“You have no idea,” Tohru manages, and his fingers slip from Yu’s throat, collapsing over him again. “You have no idea how long I’ve…” He trails off and instead bites down at the junction of Yu’s shoulder, shoving into him sharp and hungry.

Tohru finally touches him, harder than he knows how to handle, and Yu is immediately overstimulated when he brushes his hands over his dick, biting at Yu’s ear. He can feel his breath as if it were his own, hitched and uneven, labored, and Yu turns to capture his lips, wrapping his arms around Tohru’s neck and holding him close.

“Gorgeous,” Yu gasps as Tohru finds an even sharper angle, snapping up into his pelvis like his words are drawing something out of him. His eyes are as wide as the moon and inches apart from Yu’s own, and he puts everything into making sure he doesn’t look away. “You’re—ah—so beautiful, Tohru… Fuck, wanted this so badly.”

Tohru’s eyebrows furrow at that, in pleasure or something else, but he lets out a strangled noise as he drops his forehead to Yu’s, a slick of sweat underneath the fringe of his hair. “Not gonna last long,” Tohru warns, his pace growing frantic, ripping Yu in two. Even inside, he can’t get him close enough. Yu clings to him with his whole body, bracing himself against him. “Not like this.”

Neither is Yu, and the only warning he’s able to give is an increased pitch in his voice. Tohru finds the right angle again, and Yu spills over, biting down on his own lip hard enough to almost draw blood to keep himself from screaming outright, panting and babbling as he comes in long pulses across his chest and Tohru’s hand. As if he were waiting for permission, Tohru comes not a second later, Yu feeling even fuller as he bottoms out inside of him, mouth open in a wordless yell as he pulses with his release. He collapses onto him for a while, frozen as if caught in the moment until Yu brings his hands to the sides of Tohru’s face, kissing any inch of his skin he can find.

It feels like ages until he feels himself unwind, hair-trigger and tight with pleasure as his body thrums, Tohru still inside him as they come down together. When he can finally see clearly again, Tohru seems reluctant to pull out, or move at all, sliding himself out only with another press of Yu’s lips to his jawline, stirring him into motion.

Still, when Yu looks up into his eyes, he sees something distant and fearful that he can’t name, and Yu holds him, begging it to go away. “Hey…” Yu touches his face, smoothing his hand over his cheekbone. “Stay.” ^Back

For a second, he looks like he wants to, and Yu makes the mistake of imagining it. Low-spoken words under the stars, sneaking out right past dawn, and Yu doesn’t have to wait to see Tohru’s face change to know it’s just out of his grasp.

“I…” Tohru looks down, biting his lip. “I have to go.”

Yu reaches for him again, but before he can react, Tohru is detangling himself from Yu’s grasp like a spooked animal, fumbling in a mess of limbs as he looks for his yukata. Yu sits up, grimacing at the feeling of come and sweat down his shaking thighs, but ignores it and tries to follow Tohru, who’s resolute in looking at the ground as he haphazardly ties his yukata. He wants to ask a million questions, wants to grab Tohru’s arm and spin him back around, wants to be angry and distraught and force him to see that—but Tohru’s snatching up the empty beer cans and fumbling open the sliding patio door, so Yu settles on, “Why?”

He’s already given Tohru too much time to school his expression. “Look,” Tohru says breezily, and his cheeks are pulled into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, like his lips are on strings. “This was fun, scratching each other’s itches and all. But this shouldn’t happen again. Alright?”

Tohru pulls open the door, and despite everything he keeps his steps light, quiet in the darkened house. Yu gathers the soiled blanket to his naked body, surprising himself with the amount of resolve that settles in him above all else, and follows him across the living room, to the kitchen where he’s tossing the beer cans. Tohru keeps his eyes averted as he pushes past Yu, smelling like grass and sweat and come and linens—as though he can run from it now, this inexorable shift between them, the way they waltzed right over those lines in the sand. The way he’d entered as Adachi and is leaving as something else entirely.

“Tohru,” Yu tries, softly, as the man stuffs his feet into his shoes and attempts to flee.

Tohru pauses, gaze fixed on the ground, looking small and ashamed even with his back turned to Yu. “Maybe don’t tell your uncle about all this, yeah?” He lingers at the door just a moment longer. “Sorry,” he quietly adds.

Yu watches him leave, the night air warm across his dirty skin. This is who he wants. This is what he gets.

Chapter Text

Life moves on, and Yu just has to move along with it.

Before he knows it, school begins again, and part of him is anxious for the return of some sort of structure, something to anchor him to time. The first day, he walks with the rest of his friends to class, attempting to absorb their idle conversation, but it’s hard when he hasn’t thought about anything truly idle in ages—barely even the weather, and certainly not tests.

It’s predictable—sad, maybe—but the only thing that piques his interest is Yukiko’s quip of, “I ran into Adachi at Junes the other day.”

Despite himself, Yu’s chest gives a slight lurch at the name as they walk into their classroom. “Oh?”

“He was in a rush,” she explains, settling into her desk like there’s nothing amiss. “Like he had somewhere to be. Maybe they’re starting to take things more seriously down there?”

Yu resists the urge to laugh and hums instead. “Maybe.”

Just a glimpse is more than he’s seen of Tohru since the festival, but that’s hardly a surprise. Not really, not with everything he’s come to know about him, not considering what transpired. Even Yu’s felt stripped by it, so raw that the tiniest brush of it against his consciousness aches, and he can’t imagine what that feeling must be like to someone wholly unaccustomed to being flayed open like that. Yu’s weathering it enough to not be afraid of pulling at the sutures. But he’s not Tohru.

While Yu seeks him out, sometimes subconsciously, sometimes on purpose—lingering at Junes, taking the long way home past the gas station, checking his phone to no avail—Tohru avoids him at seemingly all costs.

“Adachi’s been a wreck lately,” Dojima mutters when he’s home, glancing over the top of his paper. “I’ve been trying to get him to grab a drink or come over for dinner, but I can’t get a straight answer.”

“Weird,” Yu remarks from the kitchen, pausing in his work to steady his hands again.

There’s a rustling as Dojima turns the paper. “Do you know anything that could have happened?”

Yu puts the knife down entirely, breathing in deep as he calms himself enough to really look at him. There’s no way he could know. It would have been the first thing out of his mouth the next morning—they both would have been burned alive. Still, there’s something sharp in Dojima’s eyes, a detective’s intuition that tells Yu he hasn’t been good enough at hiding his own reaction to this.

Still, it does no good to confirm it. “No, I have no idea.”

Dojima’s eyes linger on him for a minute, too long for comfort, before blissfully sliding back down to the contents of the news. “Well, I’m sure he’ll snap out of it.”

Yu hopes so, of course he does, but he’s honestly not sure. He’s never pushed Tohru this far before, never pushed himself this far before, and the idea that they can go back to some semblance of equilibrium isn’t a given one.

The thought that he’s maybe scared him away entirely hasn’t escaped him, but even if it’s true, it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. The timeline hasn’t changed. He’s still innocent. He’s still accomplishing his goal.

This is what he continues to tell himself as the days go by, refocusing on his mission in the absence of the person it’s for. He shifts instead to a different detective, one he needs on his side just as much, if not more, for the sake of the mystery at hand.

Naoto is prolific in the halls of Yasoinaba High. Yu sees flashes of that blue cap out of the corner of his eye almost on the daily, but every time he turns around to track them down, they’ve disappeared into the crowd. Still, Yu can feel their eyes on him, particularly when he’s with his friends and they pass in the halls, and it’s not at all dissimilar to how Dojima’s rests on him in suspicion.

Their presence, though, is a relief on its own. He can figure out the details as time goes on—the fact that they’re here means not only that someone, somewhere is taking this case seriously, but the timeline isn’t so far gone from him that a figure so crucial would be omitted. Losing them wouldn’t be worth it. They may not be able to solve this without them, not with Yu himself so lost to the plot and losing more by the day.

Besides, their absence always stings. They anchor the group with a sense of rationality and skepticism in ways Yu can’t, and even amid the uncertainty, Yu’s just glad he hasn’t lost the team a friend they deserve.

About a week into the start of school, they finally meet Yu face-to-face once again, this time outside of Junes at their usual table. The rest of the group idly reviews details of the case under their breath, at Yu’s urging. When they see someone approach, the conversation comes to an incredibly conspicuous halt, and Yu is braced for impact even before he notes the narrowed line of Naoto’s eyes.

“Hello,” they greet, low and with crossed arms, scanning the table. Several of the team squirm under the scrutiny. “I ran into you a few days ago, so I thought I should introduce myself officially. My name’s Naoto Shirogane.”

Yu can’t help but be charmed by their obvious posturing—their stilted, formal speech and squared-off stance—and how it contrasts to the person he knows, looser and much less sure, and he has to remind himself again where he is in time. “Yu Narukami, it’s a pleasure.”

The rest go down the line and offer their own greetings and introductions, Naoto nodding along at each like the chaotic delivery isn’t confusing at all, and Yu’s certain they’re already well-familiar with the content.

“I go to the same school as you,” they continue after the noise dies down. “Or at least, I will for a while. I should be forthright: I’m working with the police.”

Under his breath, Kanji mutters, simply, “Shit.”

More than a few eyes flicker towards him, Yu’s and Naoto’s included, and Naoto clicks their tongue before speaking again. “It’s on behalf of my grandfather,” they add, and Kanji slumps his shoulders a little. “I’m looking into the serial kidnapping case here.”

Yu crosses his legs, angling his body towards Naoto to face them properly. “I see.”

“It’s odd, though,” Naoto says, tapping their fingers on their forearms. “I never expected that a stranger at the supermarket would be involved with the very case I’m working on.”

A wicked grin threatens to sweep across Yu’s face at the thrill of being called out by them, finally, but he stamps it down, keeping his expression perfectly neutral. “What do you mean?”

“I couldn’t help but notice,” Naoto begins, pacing a small circle towards the other side of the bench, “that a majority of the kidnapping victims are all gathered here, despite all your differences in social status, class, and personality.”

“And what about it?” Kanji cuts in, lifting his head with a frown. “Can’t we all just be friends?”

Naoto plows on as if nothing was said, squaring their shoulders. “You wouldn’t happen to be involved with the kidnappings, would you? I mean, Morooka was pretty universally hated at the school, it might all be connected.”

“If we’re the victims, why would we be responsible?” Rise counters immediately.

Yukiko nods in agreement, scowling deeper than Yu’s almost ever seen. “We’re not playing some game,” she snaps. “We all just happen to be friends.”

“Probably because most of us went through something traumatic,” Rise adds, leaning up into Naoto’s space. They take a professional step back. “It tends to bond people.”

Naoto’s fingers are tight as their face contorts briefly into something Yu finds more familiar, a bit of uncertainty mixed with sincere thought, like they’re taking in a new observation and synthesizing it with an open, if reluctant, mind. They give a long sigh, shaking their head. “I suppose you have no involvement with the first victim, Yamano. It’s a detail I’ve been stuck on, too.”

“Right,” Yosuke snaps. “So why would we be involved at all?”

“I really hope you’re not purposefully involved,” Naoto mutters, still with an edge of skepticism. “But if it’s true you’re just all victims, that suggests a different and more disturbing pattern.”

“Tell us about it,” Chie pipes up.

Naoto sighs again, and this time, there’s a resignation to it, but Yu can see the gears turning. “Thank you for your time,” they offer. “I’d like to continue this conversation later. I need to rethink my theories.”

Without waiting for a reply or confirmation, Naoto spins on their heel and walks away. A wave of tension seems to roll off the rest of them, their agitation palpable as they re-settle into their conversation.

“What’s with that guy,” Yosuke remarks as he stares at their fading frame, eyes narrowed. “What a weirdo.”

They’ll all change their tune in time, but Yu has the patience for that.

The only piece of the conversation that haunts him is the insinuation of Morooka’s potential involvement in the broader case, and it churns in his head still on the way home.

When he arrives, though, Nanako’s beaming bright about the vegetables being ready for harvest, and between that and the high of Naoto reentering his life, there’s little space in his head from then on to waste on any lingering uncertainty. There’s work to be done.

He pulls Nanako’s pink gardening gloves delicately over her hands before heading out to the backyard. It’s beautiful, really, to see the fruits of their labor finally come to seed, and he finds himself soaring in his good mood as he makes idle chatter with Nanako and digs up the vegetables one by one. After they’re collected, he teaches Nanako how to wash and prepare them as they work side-by-side in the kitchen on a curry, sun setting behind them.

“I’m going to miss you while you’re on your trip to that other school,” Nanako sighs halfway through prep, looking up at Yu with shining eyes.

“I’ll be back in no time,” he assures her with a pat on the head, smiling down gently. “And I’ll make you whatever you want for dinner when I get back.”

“I’ve got a field trip coming up too,” she says, returning to her safety knife where she’s been learning to dice carrots. “To a science museum in Okina! I can’t wait for Dad to get home so he can sign for me!”

Yu ruffles her hair, smoothing back a piece from her eyes so she can see clearly on her work. “Make sure you watch him sign it,” he advises, knowing Dojima all too well. “And get the paper right back from him when he does.”

Nanako nods with all the studiousness and intensity of a star pupil, and turns to her work in the kitchen with the same precision. Between the two of them, dinner is ready in no time, and it’s a hit all around, flavorful and unbelievably fresh.

After dinner, something in him is still feeling bold. He takes a few of the remaining vegetables they harvested and sets them aside, gathering them up into a bag and telling Nanako over his shoulder that he’ll be back in a while.

Tohru helped plant these himself, after all.

When he knocks on his apartment, it takes a long, long while for him to answer. It takes a lifetime to even hear rustling beyond the door, and he wonders if he’s out or asleep, but eventually, there’s some noise beyond, a creak of footsteps against the hardwood, and Yu readies himself, swallowing.

When he finally opens the door, just a crack, Yu sees what Dojima meant about him being a wreck immediately. His eyes are hallowed, and he looks pale, thinner than normal and strung out, rubbing at his face as he stares at Yu. “What is it?”

Yu tries not to think about how those are the first words he’s said to him in weeks, and instead says, “I brought you some of the vegetables we grew.”

Something flashes in his eyes, but Tohru swallows it, and he looks sickly in the aftermath. “Great. Thanks. Have a good night.”

“Tohru,” Yu says, and Tohru’s hand falters on the door. Yu doesn’t miss the way his face twitches into something softer, something pained. “Please. I have some updates on the case I need to tell you. Can I at least come in?”

Tohru sets his eyes to the floor before rolling them up to the sky and heaving his shoulders, stepping aside. “Sure. Fine.”

Yu pushes past and Tohru shuts the door behind him, looking up at Yu with his hand still on the knob. Yu hopes the outstretched vegetables will at least coax him forward, refusing to play his game by meeting him halfway, and sure enough, he eventually peels himself off from the door and snags it, looking in the bag with an unreadable expression.

“Thanks,” he mutters, setting them down on the kitchen counter. He stares at them for several seconds before he blinks, turning back to Yu. “What do you have to tell me?”

Yu goes over the events of earlier—meeting Naoto, their suspicions of the party, their insistence that Morooka is connected to the serial kidnappings—in as much detail as he can, trying to soak in the moments that Tohru is letting him stay. When he finishes, Tohru just nods, shrugging.

“Weird guy with a blue hat? Yeah, I’ve seen that kid around,” Tohru drawls, leaning back up against the counter. “I haven’t paid much attention, since he’s going through ghosts of files I’ve seen a million times. He did seem particularly interested in the Morooka case, though. He keeps badgering us to finish up the investigation of his house, like it matters.”

“You should,” Yu presses, before adding, sheepishly, “but I know you don’t have control over that.”

“Right,” Tohru snorts, and then goes quiet, casting the room in an immediate, uncomfortable veil. Seconds pass in silence, and Yu grows twitchy in the increasingly heavy atmosphere, desperate to fill the void.

“Anyway,” Yu hedges, clearing his throat. “I’m going to Tatsumi Port Island for a few days. With my school.”

Tohru doesn’t look him in the eyes. “That’s good,” he says, breezily, dismissive. “Finally getting to live a real high schooler’s life. Have fun.”

Something about it leaves a sour taste in Yu’s mouth, but he says all the same, “Thanks.”

“So…” Tohru peters off, stubbornly looking at the door. “Have a nice night, then.”

Yu considers it, he really does—the weary lines of his eyes, the careful fold of his mouth—but finds it wanting, and something that’s been building inside of him for days presses its way to the surface. “Why have you been ignoring me?”

Tohru pinches the bridge of his nose, leaning his side up against the dividing wall. “Come on, let’s not start with this.”

Yu suddenly feels bold, demanding, and it only blossoms with how Tohru’s expression tightens before Yu even speaks. “Why not?”

Tohru stares down at the floor, and Yu uses the moment to step farther into his space, erasing some of the distance between them until he’s just a pace away. It makes Tohru look back up, a soft bit of surprise on his face that’s quickly swallowed up by a sigh.

“Look, Yu.” Tohru puts a hand up, but he still can’t meet his gaze. “We’d both been drinking, yeah? Let’s just forget about it.”

Yu shakes his head, taking another step forward. “Barely,” he counters, and Tohru shrinks back, a haunted look across his features. Yu’s undeterred. “We were both lucid, and you know it.”

Tohru crosses his arms like he needs the anchor, digging his fingers into his skin. “Then it was a mistake, alright?” He grinds his teeth. “You have your own life to live. It shouldn’t have…” Tohru sounds small, but sure. “It shouldn’t have been with me, for one.”

It’s an unacceptable reason, but a more honest one than Yu would have given him credit for, and it twists at his chest, driving him farther forward even as Tohru stands his ground. “I wanted it,” Yu says, simple and clear. “I wanted it with you.”

Tohru looks up at him, jaw in a hard line, and he seems to be struggling for words behind it, eyes darting across Yu’s face without settling. “Listen…”

Yu’s done enough listening to him tonight, though, done enough listening to the excuses and the insecurity and it’s his turn to speak, but he’s never been much for too many words.

So he crosses the last distance between them and kisses him hard, pushes his hair back to grip the side of his head and shove Tohru into the wall. ^X

It takes him a beat, a brief facsimile of a struggle in his unyielding lips, but it’s only seconds before Yu pries him open into a full-body moan, Tohru shuddering under him, Yu’s knee sliding beside his hips. He’s sturdy and warm, and Yu can feel the hard line of his body against his as he explores, pressing his tongue to the inside of Tohru’s mouth.

Tohru moans again, a broken, cut-together thing, and his hands find their way to Yu’s hair to pull him closer, exhaling into him, and God, it feels good. It’s like breathing again, having him beneath him and writhing like this, pulling pieces of himself back together that he didn’t even know had fallen askew. He kisses him with every bit of his want and hurt, tilting his head just so to get the right angle as Tohru kisses back, deliriously, a mess of tongue and teeth and desire.

“I want it now, too,” Yu whispers into Tohru’s skin, their breath mingling in the space between them. He smoothes some of Tohru’s fringe at his temple, kissing the side of his jaw. Tohru’s breath just hitches, silent, eyes glazed. “I want it. I can show you.”

“Yu…” Tohru begins, but it’s cautious, jolting, and Yu isn’t keen on hearing what’s on the other end of it.

He presses one last kiss to the side of his neck before he lowers to his knees, keeping his gaze set on Tohru’s as he makes his way to the floor, watching Tohru’s brows shoot up, hand searching the air for some sort of purchase that isn’t Yu’s neck. He eventually lowers them to his sides, staring down at Yu as he hooks his fingers atop Tohru’s belt, feeling his hip bones beneath his knuckles.

He repeats again, like a warning, “Yu.”

“Stop me if you don’t want this,” Yu whispers, running his fingers underneath the fabric and earning a shiver from above. “But I want to.”

Tohru just tosses his head back, thumping against the wall. He closes his eyes, and finally, painfully, winds his hand in Yu’s hair, firm but trembling just slightly, enough to pull but not enough to hurt. Not really.

Tohru hisses into a sigh, one that wracks his body like a wave. Then it turns into a laugh, a mean one, broken and bitter, high in his voice. He shakes with it, his fingers tightening to keep Yu there.

“Alright,” he says, and it’s syrupy with something plasticine, and Yu can almost see it, the wall being put up behind those eyes, but they’re still trained on him and growing dark with lust. “If you’re offering.”

There’s a challenge in his attitude and his puffed-out chest, lip bitten between his teeth in a half-smirk like he’s daring him to run, but Yu doesn’t rise to it. “I am.”

Tohru scoffs, turning his head away, but when Yu reaches for the button of his slacks, his face falls briefly into something vulnerable again, an honest flash of desire before it’s swallowed back up again by steel, and Yu keeps it in the back of his mind as he pops the button and lowers the zipper, bringing his hands to his hips to peel down the fabric. He takes his underwear down in the same layer, exposing Tohru to the open air, cock already half-hard when it bobs out from his boxers. Yu wastes little time taking it in his hands, running his fingers up and down the length and relishing in the sharp inhale from above.

“Fuck,” Tohru swears, tugging painfully at Yu’s hair, enough to sting. “I shoulda known you’d be this easy.”

“For you,” Yu clarifies.

He gives an exploratory lick, feeling the way he twitches underneath him. He gives another, humming against him before digging his hands into Tohru’s bare hips and swallowing him down, trying to bury his nose in the v of his hips. Tohru moans above him, languid, filthy, and Yu responds with one of his own around him.

Tohru guides his head with a sharp hand, pushing him to take him deeper, as deep as he can. Yu runs his tongue along the vein and hollows his cheeks, and Tohru gasps, fingers fisted at his nape to keep him there as he jerks forward, shoving himself into Yu’s mouth. Yu gags as he hits the back of his throat, then groans helplessly, tears springing to his eyes, clinging to Tohru as he simply fucks his face.

Tohru doesn’t pull away at the sound. If anything, he pushes him in deeper, until Yu’s choking on him, struggling for air, his cheeks wet.

“Look at you,” Tohru says as he guides his head back just enough for Yu to breathe, holding him there while Yu sucks in air. Hazily Yu looks up at him through damp lashes; there’s a flush across Tohru’s face, an uneven curl to his mouth. “Hard just from sucking me off.”

Yu just whines, shifting his weight and realizing it’s true, he can feel himself bulging against his own slacks, desire pooling low in his gut and dizzying him. He shuffles forward, pulling at Tohru’s hold on him to lick him again, desperate.

“Such a whore,” Tohru goads, eyes narrowing as he looks down on him. His voice is uneven, though, catching when Yu tongues over the slit, humming deep in his throat. Tohru gathers him closer by the back of his head, twisting fingers in his hair, and Yu gets one last breath of air before he’s pushed back onto his dick. “No wonder you let me fuck you. So desperate to be used.”

And maybe Yu should feel humiliated, but his words only spur him on further, sparking lust like a livewire and drawing him down to the base, greedy and moaning around him. Tohru arches his back, shaking beneath his hands, and Yu leans with him.

The only warning he gets is a choked-off keen before Tohru quiets it, hips twitching as he comes. Obedient, Yu takes it all, swallowing what he can of the bitter warmth, licking up after the rest until Tohru is panting and spent. He slides off with spit-slicked lips, Tohru’s hand still in his hair as he guides him away, just an inch. Yu wipes at his mouth with a shaking wrist, looking up at the blissed-out glaze in Tohru’s eyes, which only sharpens when he catches Yu searching.

“Get up,” Tohru commands, and it hits Yu deep in his bones, forcing him to his feet before he has time to think twice about it, despite the protest of his knees. “Come here.”

Tohru puts a finger to Yu’s chin, tilting it up, and for a second Yu wonders if he’ll kiss him, but he just shakes his head, reaching for Yu’s pants.

Yu doesn’t have time to be disappointed, nearly blind from desire and arcing towards Tohru, who is already busy popping the button and lowering the zipper in one swift motion. He tugs his pants and boxers down just far enough to pull out Yu’s dick, achingly hard, more turned on than he should be by a mile. Tohru wraps a rough hand around him, and Yu bites down on his lip to keep from crying out.

Tohru won’t meet his eyes as he works him up and down, already slick with pre-come, but when Yu collapses his head, trembling and panting, into the crease of his shoulder, he doesn’t pull away, his labored breath ghosting the shell of Yu’s ear..

Yu doesn’t last long, not after everything. Tohru’s murmurs against his jaw—hushed, chopped up insults and taunts: he’s so hard up for it, so desperate, does he know what he looks like—and the slight tremor in his voice are what do him in, buckling his knees as he comes across Tohru’s knuckles, his shirt, dripping to the ground, panting out his release. Tohru just milks him through it, pumping out his orgasm in harsh tugs.

“Needed it that bad, huh?” Tohru hisses, biting down on the cusp of Yu’s ear and drawing another moan. “God, you’re wrecked.”

Yu doesn’t care what he looks like, doesn’t care what he’s drawn out in him. Maybe he will later, but now, lost in the afterglow of watching Tohru peel himself from the wall, pull up his pants, and duck into the bathroom, he feels nothing but a numbed-out sort of euphoria, high from just a modicum of his attention after so long. He returns only a few seconds later with a damp rag in hand, lazily tugging Yu closer to clean him up, washing across his dick, his abs, before attending to himself, between his fingers and down his palms, scrubbing what he can from his shirt.

They pull themselves together mostly in silence, Tohru refusing once again to meet his gaze, facing away from him. Yu keeps his eyes on his back, fastening himself up and running a hand through his hair.^Back

He knows Tohru well enough—sometimes not at all, and sometimes like the back of his hand—but in this moment, he’s capable of reading his body language like he’s fluent. There’s nothing else he’s going to get out of him, not from his rounded-in shoulders and far-off eyes, nor the harsh pull of his lips. Maybe, for once, Yu’s pushed enough for one night.

Still, he can’t stop himself entirely from leaving him without a word. “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.” His voice is raw from abuse—lingering proof of what they’ve done.

Tohru tightens his jaw as Yu makes his way to the door, seemingly rooted in place. His shirt is still damp, his pants wrinkled. “I know.”

That’s good enough for him.

Back home, the house is thankfully quiet and still when he sneaks in through the front door. He makes his way up to his room with the intention of sleeping, but even under the covers, all he can do is stare at the ceiling. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’s not really surprised by Tohru—the way he’s ignored him up until now or his behavior tonight. It would have been the bigger surprise if he didn’t put up some sort of a front or fight.

He’s still buzzing from release, and he plays it over and over in his head: the rough words, the attempt at dispassionate touch, the stubborn edge of gentleness that this version of Tohru always seems to have lately. Maybe he should be ashamed, turned on by being used, but… at the same time, it’s Tohru admitting, in his own way, that he wants Yu too.

Yu sighs into his blankets, curling himself up in them as he blinks in the vision of Tohru right on the edge, twisted up in naked ecstasy he couldn’t hide and something softer Yu couldn’t name. He wants to figure out how to hold him there, wants to find all the places that make him tick, he wants…

He wants Tohru. He’s wanted worse versions of him, in worse ways, that this feels like a victory. For whatever it’s worth, he’ll take it.

He still doesn’t sleep all that well. His alarm rings bright and early, too, just in time to catch the train to Tatsumi Port Island.

Gathering himself to the best of his ability, Yu dresses and makes his way down to the station where a group of his classmates have already started to gather. Yosuke chats with the Konishi siblings, while Chie and Yukiko pore over a brochure to the side with Kanji and Rise over their shoulders. Yosuke waves as he approaches, beckoning him over as Yu rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

“I was just telling him to look after my brother,” Saki says as he walks up, gesturing at Yosuke. Naoki flushes a bit, rubbing the back of his head. “But I should probably look to you for that. You seem like the more responsible one.”

The corners of Yu’s lips twitch up. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“Just stay out of trouble,” Saki warns, fluffing her younger brother’s hair despite a yelp of protest. Yosuke elbows him with a grin, and if anything, he just flushes harder. “And don’t have too much fun.”

It might be the sleep deprivation, but he remembers this trip well, and Yu cuts in before the others can with, “We won’t.”

The call for the train interrupts the rest of their conversation, so they depart from Saki with a quick goodbye, loading themselves up for the trip ahead.

“What do you mean we won’t have too much fun?” Yosuke asks once they’re in their seats, scanning his eyes wildly over the trip pamphlet. “This place looks awesome!”

Yu plucks out the plain slip of paper hiding in the last fold of the brochure, sliding it in front of an advertisement for an arcade they will never get to visit. “But have you actually looked at the itinerary?”

“Oh,” Yosuke remarks, and as he takes stock of the paper in front of him, Yu watches his face fall. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yu agrees as he too scans his eyes over the contents. It’s rare he makes it this far, but he remembers they stick to Morooka’s posthumous proposals stringently—school tours, factory tours, and lectures all three days—with little time for outside leisure. “Just warning you.”

Yosuke groans, collapsing into his hands. “Not even death can save us from King Moron, that bastard.”

Yu agrees with a solemn nod, and with Yosuke disquieted, he passes the rest of the ride in relative silence, enjoying the view from out the window, especially as they pass over the water on the approach to the island, glistening brilliantly in the sun.

Once they’ve pulled into port, Yu catches a glimpse of Naoto out of the corner of his eye, gathering their luggage and standing a bit away from the crowd. They’re an island themself, separate from the others, and that won’t do.

“Hey,” Yu greets gently, adjusting his bag over his shoulder as he walks up to them, practicing his words in his head. “I think we maybe got started on the wrong foot. Would you want to hang out with us?”

Naoto eyes the group Yu just left, already much louder than the rest of the class and more animated by far, a pop of color in a scape of relative calm. He gives them what he hopes is an encouraging smile.

“Sure,” Naoto agrees after a moment of contemplation, quiet as their face remains half-hidden behind their hat. “Why not?”

The team greets them with varying degrees of enthusiasm—Rise’s the most genuine, Yosuke’s the most stilted, and Kanji’s the most flustered—but welcome them all the same. They make idle chatter for a few minutes, but before long, the same student guide—Chihiro, if he remembers correctly—appears at the school gates and gathers their attention for the tour of Gekkoukan High.

It’s been a while since he’s been, so Yu takes it all in: the clear, crisp white and blue of the school halls and the slight lingering smell of ocean air, letting it wash over him as Chihiro gives her same spiel. They make their loop around the school halls before a few instructors meet up with them back in the lobby, instructing the 1st and 2nd years towards their separate classrooms for afternoon lectures.

For the first time since the very beginning, Yu actually listens to Edogawa. Yu can’t even remember the last time he made it this far in a loop without getting frustrated and starting over, let alone bothered to pay attention.

Maybe he should have—at least to the parts that concern him, the parts about Izanagi. He puts more thought into the nature of his connection to him than he has in ages, and it makes him consider, not for the first time, if the existence of Izanagi as a Persona necessitates the existence of Izanami as one as well. He’s lost on who would wield it or where it would fit in, but the possibility snags in his mind like loose thread, and he tugs at it for the remainder of the lecture.

He knows from experience that his friends do not handle the hotel situation with grace.

It isn’t helped at all by the arrival of Teddie, who appears seemingly out of nowhere with the explanation he stowed away on a train. Using Yosuke’s money, of course.

“Who told you that you could take that?” Yosuke hisses after shuffling him inside between the throng of students into the side of the hotel lobby and out of sight.

“I was feeling excluded,” Teddie asserts. His next words are muffled by Yosuke’s hand, but Yu wastes little time whisking the both of them away down the hall towards their room regardless, trying not to draw more attention to themselves than they already have.

Inside, the decor is alarming at best, and the lack of multiple beds makes the rest of the group blanch, sans Teddie, who immediately dives into the center of the mattress with glee and rolls around its wide surface, arms outstretched.

“What are you talking about?” Teddie exclaims, leaning up on his chin and kicking his heels behind him as he appraises a horrified Kanji and Yosuke. “There’s more than enough room!”

Yu knows Yosuke’s efforts to change the room are fruitless, so he stays behind, but humors him by not stopping him on his way out to try. Sure enough, he comes slinking back a few minutes later with the same room key in hand wearing a pallid, dour look of defeat.

“I’ll just sleep on the floor,” Yosuke mutters, while Yu shrugs and fluffs one of the pillows.

“The bed’s good enough for me,” Yu shrugs, joining Teddie on the mattress and promptly crossing his ankles, folding his hands behind his head.

Yosuke looks at him, mostly incredulous with a mix of something approaching envy, and Yu hates to prod at him like this, but maybe it’s worth trying to get him to loosen up, just a bit..

“I’ll take the chair,” Kanji concedes, and Yu just nods along with the knowledge that he’ll be joining them on the bed halfway through the night anyway.

The stubbornly awkward air in the room is cut before too long by the arrival of Rise, the rest of the girls behind her, with an invitation to go out and explore the nightlife.

They’re whisked away down the streets of the island, down towards the centerpiece mall that Yu remembers in its infamy all too well. Yu just bites his tongue and leans back while they loiter in the shopping center trying to decide what to do first, relief and a certain anticipation hitting at the final decision to head into the nightclub.

Sure enough, Naoto is already sitting at the bar, something he doesn’t even have to point out first judging by Kanji’s immediate flush and Rise’s subsequent elbow to his side. She turns around to the rest and grins, wicked. “I can call in a favor here and get us the private loft. Drinks should be on the house, too.” She steamrolls over their disbelief by adding, “Just stay here a second,” and pulls a bartender aside.

The drinks here are virgin, and far easier to acquire than the rest think, but Yu wouldn’t dare ruin the night by letting it on. They giggle and furtively glance at one another as Rise bargains, then bounces back to them triumphantly.

“The loft is ours, with drinks provided,” she announces, and they cheer. “You can thank me later.” Then she whirls on Naoto, who still sits at the bar nearby and startles when the attention is suddenly on them. “Want to come sit with us?” Rise asks, pointedly ignoring Kanji nearly tripping on himself. “There’s plenty of space, and it’s pretty lonely down here.”

Naoto’s eyes flicker, ducking their head as their cheeks redden, and they nod. “Sure.”

Another brick falls into place in Yu’s mind as he follows Rise up the stairs, the rest filing in behind him and the tray of drinks making its way soon after. Under placebo, it barely takes a few sips before everyone around him starts to loosen up, and eventually it loops back around, inevitably, to familiar territory.

“We should play a game,” Rise declares, slamming her glass down. “A King’s Game!”

“Oooh,” Teddie crows, clapping his hands together, a flush already creeping up his face. “I love games!”

Naoto presses their lips together, glancing around the group with a tight smile. “I’ll just watch.”

“Don’t be silly!” Rise insists, wrapping an arm around their shoulders and pulling them in tight despite their noise of protest. “Everyone has to join in.”

They try to sputter out another denial, but Rise is prepared, flagging down the bartender collecting cups for a handful of wooden sticks, along with another round for the table.

“Whoever draws the king makes the rules,” she explains, her voice already starting to slur as she works on her second drink once they bring it by. “And if they call your number, you have to do what they say!”

Naoto looks down at the pile of sticks with furrowed brows, another objection on their lips, but it’s cut off by Teddie pleading, “Let me draw first!”

Rise holds out the sticks in his direction and he plucks one from her hands, kicking his feet in excitement as he holds it close to his face and giggles, hiding it from Yosuke who conspicuously peers over his shoulder. The rest follow along in a circle, some with more reluctance than others, and Yu peers at his own, an innocuous little ‘6’ in gold gel pen.

He’s rarely made it this far, but in his experience, things like this that rely purely on random chance are different every loop. Insignificant aberrations, and all that. There’s no script, but that’s alright.

“Uh,” Kanji looks down at his stick with a deep frown, face pulled comedically downwards. “I think I’m the king?”

He flips over his stick to reveal a little crown in a different, even more glittery pen, and Rise claps her hands in delight. “You gotta give a command!”

Kanji glances around the room with slightly panicked eyes, scratching at the back of his head. “Like what?”

“Oh,” Rise sings, swaying in her seat as she tosses her hair back. “I don’t know. Something fun, like…” She glances around and brings her voice down to a dramatic whisper. “Number three and number six have to kiss.”

She laughs out loud at her own joke, and Kanji just flushes, shaking his head. “No thanks,” he dismisses with a sigh, tapping his foot against the floor in thought. “How about… let’s see, number one and number four have to switch places.”

“Boo,” Rise jeers, and Yukiko echoes her with a giggle, just seeming to find the noise funny. “That’s no fun at all, you jerk!”

Yosuke rises to his feet from his place at Kanji’s side with a slight bit of unsteadiness, holding his drink in hand. On the other side of the bench, Naoto is slower to get up from their corner after examining their stick yet again, maneuvering around the table and squeezing past Kanji’s knees to take the seat next to him as Yosuke takes their place beside Rise. Kanji hides his expression behind his hand, but it’s more than the drink that’s reddened his face, Yu’s sure.

Rise sighs and collects the sticks again regardless, shuffling them in her hand before holding them out to the table. This time, it’s Teddie who can’t hide his expression of glee as he takes his stick, announcing his reign before the rest of the numbers are even passed out.

“I declare,” he begins, putting on a pompous tone and holding up his index finger. “That number two and number five…” Teddie lowers down to a whisper, glancing amongst the group like he’s about to say the most risque thing he can conjure. “Have to sit on each other’s lap!’

It’s Yukiko and Chie who look at each other this round and grin. Chie immediately hops in Yukiko’s lap as Yukiko threads her arms around her waist, holding each other's hands over Chie’s lap. “Done and done,” Chie quips, grinning as Yukiko gives her a kiss on the cheek.

Teddie just stares at them with wide eyes and parted lips like he’s seeing something for the first time, nodding as he catalogues it with a scientific glint before passing his stick back to Rise. When they’re all picked a third time, Yu looks around the group and has not the first clue who has it based on anyone’s expression alone, which makes it wholly unsurprising that it’s Naoto who flips over the crown.

“That means it’s my turn,” Naoto begins, placing their stick down on the table definitively before folding their hands and leaning forward over their knees. “I’m going to play this a little differently, so pardon me in advance.”

“Oh, I love a twist,” Rise giggles, flagging down the waiter for a third round.

Yu himself is almost halfway done with his second, and whether or not there really is any alcohol in here, he certainly feels lighter and looser—taking in his surroundings rather than feeling like simply an observer. But maybe it’s more from knowing where Naoto means to go with this, his limbs flooding with a warm anticipation.

Naoto clears their throat, scanning the table one by one. “I command that numbers one and six tell me everything about their experience with the kidnappings.”

They turn their gaze to Kanji first, who clutches his stick to his chest and scratches at his chin, looking down at his feet. “Well, see, the thing is…” he trails off. “We can’t really remember anything.”

Naoto raises their brows. “Anything at all?”

“That’s easy,” Yukiko slurs when Naoto’s eyes flicker to them when Kanji just shakes his head, slamming down her empty second drink on the table from around Chie. “We were on the Midnight Channel and then got trapped inside the TV! And we had to rescue each other with our Personas!”

“I must ask you to take this seriously,” Naoto says, stern. “There’s not even alcohol in these.”

“What do you mean?” Rise demands, leaning back heavily in her seat as she sways, nearly knocking into Yukiko and Chie. “I really feel it.”

With a sigh, Naoto puts their head in their hands, rubbing at their temples. “This place lost their license. They haven’t served alcohol here since last year.”

“That’s crazy,” Yukiko drawls, too far gone in whatever the effect is to listen. “But I’m totally telling the truth!”

No one jumps to back her up, but, tellingly, no one jumps to deny her, either, and Yu certainly has no intentions of doing so—the sooner Naoto can begin to piece things together, the better. Naoto takes this in, crossing their arms as the silence drags on, increasingly uncomfortable for everyone else.

When they speak, all they say is, “The Midnight Channel? Really?”

Yukiko nods furiously from over Chie’s shoulder. “Really.”

Surprising even to Yu, Naoto is silent, then just checks their watch and gives a small yawn, setting down their drink. “Well, you’ve given me a lot to think about,” they say, and though clear skepticism still remains on their face, there’s hardly a hint of denial. “But it’s getting late. I suggest we all get back.”

As the rest get up and are left to the existential examination whether or not they really were drunk, Yu is slow to move, a grin on his face he knows he can’t hide. It may have taken a while, but now that Naoto’s here, things are going better than he could have hoped.

The next time Yu sees Naoto again, that hope is confirmed tenfold.

They’re back in Inaba by that time, at Junes again, and this time, when Naoto approaches them, the gang is ready, hardly halting in their conversation as they approach.

“First, I’d like to apologize,” Naoto says, still with their arms crossed and their shoulders back, but with a bowed head and sincerity to their voice. “For being so suspicious of you. I can see now I was wrong.”

Kanji turns and mutters, “Thank you for that.”

Pleasantries dealt with, apparently, they continue, “I wanted to tell you my new working theory about the case. I think I can trust you with it.”

“Alright,” Yu says, taking the point. “Hit us with it.”

“Those who disappear are featured on TV first,” Naoto says as they gesture to the open space near Yu, an unspoken question. He nods, glad to give them a seat at the table, and Naoto slides in beside him. “At least, that’s the prevailing pattern.”

Yosuke considers this with a hum, shrugging. “We thought something like that, too,” he says. “At least at first. It’s been variable, though. Especially if you think Morooka is involved, which you seem to.”

Naoto nods. “You’re right,” they concede, easily. “But a pattern is still a pattern. I think I can trust you all with this, too.”

Kanji’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to use myself as bait.”

The rest of the group reacts with various murmurs and objections, the loudest from Kanji who declares, “The hell you are.”

Despite the rabble, Naoto is undeterred, folding their hands on the table. Yu is calm and silent at their side. “I’ve thought a lot about this,” they explain, cutting above the noise with a clear voice. “I know what I’m getting myself into. I’ll keep you all updated, of course.”

With that, they’re off again, back to their work, and leaving the rest of the Investigation Team stunned in their wake, staring at each other with various shades of disbelief and worry.

It’s all Yu can do to hold his expression together, though, because it threatens to be one of pure joy.

Naoto is joining them after all.