KalosKagathos
Learned
*
Fine, so she felt a little...regretful that she was unable to maintain her composure around Kanji; someone who had previous been both a team-mate and a friend. But he - and his complete disregard for her many identical rejections - was equally to blame. He kept trying to talk with her, kept hanging around, and kept generally being a complete bother.
And now he was in the corridor outside the sewing room - as he was most lunchtimes, not that Naoto had been following him, in fact she had a perfectly good, non-Kanji-related reason for being there at that moment.
Probably.
Anyway, he was just standing there, staring through the window. Why didn't he go inside? If there was one thing that irritated Naoto, it was unanswered questions - or, more specifically, unanswered questions she barely understood to begin with. Such as the reasoning behind Kanji's crush. Or, for that matter, her sudden and distressing obsession with it.
Naoto stared dolefully down the corridor, wishing she understood.
"What are you...oh, just get out the way, would you?"
A third year girl - someone she'd seen Souji talking with, she thought? - shoved past her, shooting a glare on her way and muttering about idiot second years standing around in the middle of corridors. Naoto summoned up a suitably frosty glare in response. Unfortunately, the girl was already halfway through the drama room door - and Kanji Tatsumi was now turning away from the window, frowning at nothing in particular.
He looked up, and glare met frown - shortly before both dissolved into fierce blushes.
"Uh...h-hey, Naoto."
She swallowed hard, and nodded. "Tatsumi."
A good fifteen seconds passed. Naoto began to feel vaguely sick.
"Are you...going to sewing club?" she finally managed, in a voice about three times higher than she'd have preferred.
"Uh," responded Kanji.
Naoto didn't think that was much of an answer at all, and tried to convey this to Kanji via the medium of agitatedly tapping her foot against the wooden floor. The attempt was unsuccessful, and Kanji was now staring at a point roughly six inches above her head.
"Well," she said, "I hope you enjoy..." Enjoy what was a mystery. Stalking the sewing club? Ruining my composure? Naoto couldn't decided, and settled for, "...well, yes."
Then she spun on her heels, and strode away down the corridor before Kanji could respond.
*
Naoto intended to go straight to the police station after school and bury herself in work until she returned to her usual calm, collected self - even if it took three weeks. This plan was disrupted by Yukiko Amagi, who gently took hold of her arm outside the school gate and dragged her towards a tree.
"Rise told me," she whispered eagerly.
Naoto blinked. "Told you what?"
"That you finally know about Kanji's crush." Yukiko smiled then, as if there was a second part of that sentence that Naoto ought to know.
She didn't. "I fail to see how this is relevant."
Yukiko sighed, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. Long, smooth, dark, and perfectly set against her flawless skin. No wonder the Amagi challenge had claimed so many victims. There certainly wasn't a Shirogane challenge, Naoto decided; just a locker forever full of letters which she refused to read, all addressed to the mysterious Detective Prince.
"Kanji and I...we knew each other as children," Yukiko continued. "He's a good person, Naoto-kun, you know that by now." She paused. "And he liked you even back when he first joined the team."
Naoto frowned. "Yes. I know. Rise," she added, because that one word tended to explain so much.
Yukiko smiled again, then leaned closer. "If you'd seen his Shadow, then...well."
How Kanji's shadow related to Naoto - who had met him a grand total of twice prior to his kidnapping - was a mystery. But Yukiko's point wasn't, and it confirmed what Rise had told her earlier. Kanji had liked her as a boy. He hadn't changed his mind. Meaning he regarded her no differently - and thinking about it, hadn't treated her as such.
Naoto was painfully aware that he might be the only one.
"You certainly made an impression on him, put it that way," murmured Yukiko, still with a smile. The best response Naoto could manage was a dumb nod.
Fine, so she felt a little...regretful that she was unable to maintain her composure around Kanji; someone who had previous been both a team-mate and a friend. But he - and his complete disregard for her many identical rejections - was equally to blame. He kept trying to talk with her, kept hanging around, and kept generally being a complete bother.
And now he was in the corridor outside the sewing room - as he was most lunchtimes, not that Naoto had been following him, in fact she had a perfectly good, non-Kanji-related reason for being there at that moment.
Probably.
Anyway, he was just standing there, staring through the window. Why didn't he go inside? If there was one thing that irritated Naoto, it was unanswered questions - or, more specifically, unanswered questions she barely understood to begin with. Such as the reasoning behind Kanji's crush. Or, for that matter, her sudden and distressing obsession with it.
Naoto stared dolefully down the corridor, wishing she understood.
"What are you...oh, just get out the way, would you?"
A third year girl - someone she'd seen Souji talking with, she thought? - shoved past her, shooting a glare on her way and muttering about idiot second years standing around in the middle of corridors. Naoto summoned up a suitably frosty glare in response. Unfortunately, the girl was already halfway through the drama room door - and Kanji Tatsumi was now turning away from the window, frowning at nothing in particular.
He looked up, and glare met frown - shortly before both dissolved into fierce blushes.
"Uh...h-hey, Naoto."
She swallowed hard, and nodded. "Tatsumi."
A good fifteen seconds passed. Naoto began to feel vaguely sick.
"Are you...going to sewing club?" she finally managed, in a voice about three times higher than she'd have preferred.
"Uh," responded Kanji.
Naoto didn't think that was much of an answer at all, and tried to convey this to Kanji via the medium of agitatedly tapping her foot against the wooden floor. The attempt was unsuccessful, and Kanji was now staring at a point roughly six inches above her head.
"Well," she said, "I hope you enjoy..." Enjoy what was a mystery. Stalking the sewing club? Ruining my composure? Naoto couldn't decided, and settled for, "...well, yes."
Then she spun on her heels, and strode away down the corridor before Kanji could respond.
*
Naoto intended to go straight to the police station after school and bury herself in work until she returned to her usual calm, collected self - even if it took three weeks. This plan was disrupted by Yukiko Amagi, who gently took hold of her arm outside the school gate and dragged her towards a tree.
"Rise told me," she whispered eagerly.
Naoto blinked. "Told you what?"
"That you finally know about Kanji's crush." Yukiko smiled then, as if there was a second part of that sentence that Naoto ought to know.
She didn't. "I fail to see how this is relevant."
Yukiko sighed, and brushed her hair out of her eyes. Long, smooth, dark, and perfectly set against her flawless skin. No wonder the Amagi challenge had claimed so many victims. There certainly wasn't a Shirogane challenge, Naoto decided; just a locker forever full of letters which she refused to read, all addressed to the mysterious Detective Prince.
"Kanji and I...we knew each other as children," Yukiko continued. "He's a good person, Naoto-kun, you know that by now." She paused. "And he liked you even back when he first joined the team."
Naoto frowned. "Yes. I know. Rise," she added, because that one word tended to explain so much.
Yukiko smiled again, then leaned closer. "If you'd seen his Shadow, then...well."
How Kanji's shadow related to Naoto - who had met him a grand total of twice prior to his kidnapping - was a mystery. But Yukiko's point wasn't, and it confirmed what Rise had told her earlier. Kanji had liked her as a boy. He hadn't changed his mind. Meaning he regarded her no differently - and thinking about it, hadn't treated her as such.
Naoto was painfully aware that he might be the only one.
"You certainly made an impression on him, put it that way," murmured Yukiko, still with a smile. The best response Naoto could manage was a dumb nod.