When Kanji finally returned to his room, his first instinct was to knit away his adrenaline. His kit was still downstairs, so he settled on pacing instead, heart still pounding. His tiredness had vanished the moment he heard Naoto cry out, and there had been a roaring in his ears since he saw her there, white as a sheet save for the blood on her ear.

Seriously though, what was she thinking? he asked himself for the hundredth time. She could have hurt herself worse than she did, or gotten her ear infected, or who knows what else – and this was Naoto he was talking about. She would have known all that. There was no way she'd do something so stupid just for giggles.

Kanji knew there was something hurting her worse than a safety pin that had caused this. But he couldn't punch out pain, couldn't scare away fear. It frustrated him to no end that he felt so powerless. Just thinking of Naoto in tears on the bathroom floor caused an icy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hoped something he said had resonated with her, but he barely felt qualified to hold a regular conversation, much less give advice. He probably just made things even worse. Probably said all the wrong things.

Of course, he knew how it felt to worry what your parents would think of you. It had taken Kanji years to figure out what his dad meant by 'being a man.' He wondered whether he and Naoto had more in common than one might think by looking at them – of course, that didn't change how utterly useless he was. He still didn't know what was at the root of Naoto's pain or what he could do for her. The only kind of talking he was good at was talking with his fists. In fact, he thought with a jolt; cool, level-headed Naoto probably would never have thought to pierce her own ears if he hadn't mentioned it.

Kanji had all but forgotten about that part of last week's conversation. What if it was his fault for putting the idea in her head? Was he supposed to have known she was going to stab herself in the ear? Could he have headed her off at the pass? Clutching his head, he fell back onto the bed with a groan.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he berated himself out loud. He knew that, in reality, her situation had nothing to do with him, but he felt like he had let her down completely. Some moral support he was turning out to be.

The rest of the night passed in much the same way, Kanji running through everything that had gone down over and over between short hours of fitful sleep. It felt both entirely too long and entirely too short, but regardless, Naoto rapped on his door at nine a.m. sharp. She was fully dressed and, judging by the dark circles under her eyes, hadn't slept much more than him.

"Mornin'," he greeted her, doing his best to sound enthusiastic.

"Good morning." She was making much less effort, voice low and flat. "Breakfast is waiting downstairs. I'd like to leave as soon as we're done."

He hesitated, on the brink of ordering her to go back to bed until she was fully rested, but knew that would only make her more upset, if anything. "Yeah, sure. See ya in a few."

Naoto nodded, heading downstairs in silence. Quickly changing, Kanji stuffed what little he'd brought with him into his backpack and followed. Breakfast was a somewhat awkward affair, Naoto's grandfather making a few attempts at small talk that were met largely with monosyllabic answers. Likely attributing their somber mood to today's task, he watched Naoto carefully, but if he noticed the way she kept touching her ear and wincing, didn't comment on it.

After the elder Shirogane bid them farewell – and made Naoto promise not to wait so long before visiting again – the trip from the estate to the cemetery was ever more quiet. Naoto explained as she purchased her ticket that their family's grave was located a fair distance away, in a town where her ancestors had lived generations ago. After this she fell silent, sitting across from Kanji and pulling her cap down in front of her eyes. Her breathing was deep and even, hands folded in her lap, but her stance was rigid. He wanted to suggest she take the opportunity to get some sleep while she could but, again, thought better of it.

With a sigh, Kanji leaned back in his own seat, trying to get comfortable without disturbing Naoto. Not for the first time in his life, he cursed his long legs and the train's cramped accommodations. He settled for leaning against the window, chilly from the cool winds picking up outside, and stretching as much as he could without spilling into the aisle. Dimly, he registered that they were finally heading into the storm as his eyes drooped closed, only to be shaken awake what felt like moments later.

"Kanji-kun." Blinking a few times, Kanji pried his eyes open. Naoto's hand was on his arm, and she glanced out the window as the train began to slow. "This is our stop."

"Yeah," he mumbled in response. Staggering to his feet, he reached up to grab his backpack as Naoto stood on tiptoe to retrieve hers. It had slid farther back in the overhead compartment during the trip, and he pretended not to see that she had to jump a little to reach it.

The walk through town to the cemetery located on its outskirts was long enough to make up for the cramped train ride, Kanji gratefully stretching his legs with every step. It was a quiet place, smaller than either Inaba or the town near the Shirogane estate. Were they here on happier business, he would have wanted to browse the local shops for unique fabrics and dyes. Instead, they pushed ahead, past storefronts closing their doors against the coming rain.

Splitting off from the narrow road, Naoto led the way down a path marked only by years of footsteps, which in turn gave way to a stone pathway, taking them just far enough from town to lend a sense of isolation. A moss-covered gate that radiated age stood guard at a small pavilion from which Naoto collected a bucket and ladle. As she filled it from a dripping spigot, Kanji gazed beyond the entrance at the modest cemetery before them.

Relatively small in size, Kanji estimated only a few dozen family tombstones of varying sizes dotting the landscape and wondered how far back the residents could trace their history in this town. Just as he was contemplating asking Naoto when her ancestors had moved away, his attention was captured by the faucet squeaking off. Naoto motioned for him to follow her, moving slowly and carefully so as not to spill a drop from her bucket.

Kanji pulled his jacket tightly around himself to block out the chill as they trudged past tombstones in silence. Naoto came to a stop in front of a large one with the names of generations worth of Shiroganes engraved on it. Despite the cold, she took off her coat, folding it up carefully before setting it on the ground, rolling up her sleeves, and kneeling in front of the tombstone with the bucket and ladle. Kanji stood back a few respectful feet to allow her space.

Slowly, methodically, she began clearing away weeds and dead flowers – who-knows-how-many years of neglect – from the grave. As she attacked a layer of caked-on mud near the base, faded red marks were revealed underneath. Peering closer, Kanji could make out Naoto's own name scrawled with crayon in childish handwriting. She scoffed. "It still hasn't come off. Yakushiji-san gave me quite the scolding for defacing family property." She ran a hand over the writing before returning to her work without further comment. A short while later, she let out a sigh and rinsed her hands off with the water left in the bucket, satisfied with the state of the grave.

Sitting forward slightly on her heels, Naoto hesitated for a moment before pulling her hat off her head. She held it tightly in one hand as she rummaged through her backpack with the other. Having never pegged her as the type to adhere to any rituals or traditions of this nature, Kanji felt as if he was intruding on one of Naoto's most private moments as she carefully unwrapped a single purple hyacinth and laid it at the base of the grave. Head bowed, she stayed silent, hands shaking slightly in her lap.

"Kanji-kun." When she spoke again, it was so soft Kanji almost didn't hear at first. "What do you know about my family?"

"Uh." A pop quiz wasn't exactly what Kanji was expecting. "W-well, they're – you're detectives. You're, what, the fifth generation, right? Of – of detectives?"

"Had you heard of us before you met me?" Naoto prompted, standing up.

Kanji scratched his head. "I mean, probably. Famous family like yours...yeah, mighta heard the name in the news or somethin'. Why d'ya ask?"

Naoto closed her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm being..." She sighed, shaking her head. "You wouldn't remember any of this. As I've told you before, they – my parents – died in a car crash when I was young. It received a fair amount of news coverage."

She paused, staring out at the roiling gray clouds that were becoming alarmingly less distant. A cool breeze picked up, carrying with it the scent of rain. "But do you know how they were remembered? 'Famous Shirogane Detective and Wife.' Hardly any mention of my mother's accomplishments. At best, she 'helped' my father on their cases. All because of her sex." Naoto's hands, balled into fists, trembled. She didn't seem to notice dropping her hat. "She was a brilliant detective, my father's equal on every level. But he was the only one who recognized her genius. I couldn't let that happen to me. I couldn't do anything about my age, but so long as people thought I was a boy…a man…they would respect me. Or so I believed. Whatever criticism my mother faced, she never let being female stop her. She was amazing. Not like me. I'll never be the man my father was, I'll never be the woman my mother was, I'll never be the woman society expects of me. I…" She looked up at Kanji desperately. "Whoever I am, it's never good enough. I'm not…" she trailed off, her voice small and bitter.

That was it. Kanji took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and in one swift movement crossed the gap between them to bring Naoto into a tight embrace. She stiffened and gasped sharply, but he didn't let go. "Y'ain't your parents, either one of 'em. You're never gonna be, an' that's ok. You don't need to try to be 'this kinda guy' or 'that kinda girl,' either. You're Naoto. Just be Naoto. Naoto's a genius, kicks some serious ass, and she's pretty freakin' cool. That's who I –" Kanji missed a beat, voice faltering, and changed gears. "You're fine the way you are, doin' your own thing. Anyone don't see that, they need to get their eyes checked. An' I know your parents would say the same thing. Your mom would be proud a'you. They both would. You're gonna be the best detective in the whole damn world someday, an' everyone'll know it."

Naoto was still for the longest time, until slowly, silently, her hands slid around his torso, clutching his shirt for dear life. He held her close and felt her whole body shiver in his arms. A dull ache seized his chest. She seemed so tiny, so fragile, so un-Naoto-like; Kanji, with arms and hands that felt too big, worried he'd crush her. Gently running his fingers through her hair, he tucked her neatly under his chin, trying to provide shelter from everyone and everything that had ever hurt her.

They stood there like this until the first drops finally broke through the clouds. Kanji gave Naoto one last squeeze, an unspoken signal for them to break apart. She stepped back, disentangling her fingers from his shirt. Turning away to give her a moment to compose herself, he leaned down to retrieve her hat from where it had fallen. After carefully brushing the dirt off, he slipped it on her head, and she adjusted it to shield her eyes.

"Thank you," she mumbled. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, casting a shadow over Naoto's face under the brim of her hat as she turned to face the tombstone.

"I'm sorry. Please, just bear with me." Anything else she might have said was drowned out by thunder.

Turning up her collar, Naoto glanced over her shoulder toward the entrance to the graveyard. "We should head back to the station before the storm gets any worse," she said evenly. She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve, then immediately drew it away, looking down.

"Yeah," Kanji agreed. Shouldering his backpack, he followed Naoto along the old path. As the rain began to pelt them harder, he remembered the umbrella he'd brought, and paused to pull it out. In the time it took for him to open it and catch up to Naoto to shield her, the sky had let loose in all its fury, completely drenching him. She turned to him and frowned.

"Kanji-kun, you don't –"

"Jus' take it. M'already soaked." She was only slightly less soaked at this point. He used his free hand to brush back wet chunks of hair stuck to his face. "No point in bringin' this if someone ain't gonna use it."

Naoto looked up at him a moment longer before accepting the umbrella. Instead of moving, however, she raised her arm until it was high enough for Kanji to fit under without crouching. He took her silent stare as an invitation.

"Th-there ain't room under there for both of us," he argued, thinking how dumb it was for him to be blushing at a time like this. "Get a move on or we're gonna miss the train."

When Naoto didn't budge, Kanji sighed and ducked under the umbrella, shaking his head and taking the handle back. "Fine. Gonna get a cramp if ya stick your arm up in the air like that. C'mon, let's go."

It was awkward, for Kanji at least, trying to maneuver without letting Naoto get any wetter than she already was. They probably would have made it to the station faster if they hadn't been walking slowly in tandem to stay dry, but Kanji found he didn't mind. Under the awning, he withdrew the umbrella and gently shook it dry as Naoto remained close to him a moment longer than he knew what to make of. Before he had a chance to make anything of it, however, she was at the ticket machine, so he followed, fishing his wallet out of his backpack. They were just in time, climbing aboard their train home minutes before it left the station.

Kanji took the aisle seat again, and Naoto stood across from him – hesitated – glanced at the window seat, then at Kanji. He cocked his head toward it in what he hoped was an inviting gesture. Naoto pursed her lips and nodded before lighting down in the spot next to him. He flashed a quick smile at her that she awkwardly returned as she leaned forward to rummage around in her bag. Out came her book, and she moved around as if trying to settle in before giving up and huddling against the wall. As the train began to roll out of the station, Kanji busied himself with his knitting – last night's penguin needed a friend; he was thinking maybe a lion – and let his mind wander.

Whatever Naoto believed about herself, she was anything but stagnant, at least in the time she'd been in Inaba. Kanji counted himself as lucky to have witnessed her growth since her arrival in the little town. The notion that she wasn't good enough was, in his opinion, so wrong it would be laughable were it not tearing her apart. The individual aspects of her identity her critics focused on, they were her, but she was more than them; more than any number of adjectives could say. He was certain there was so much left inside her that she had yet to allow the world, or even herself, to acknowledge. Kanji felt a longing deeper than he had been prepared for to become acquainted with all of it, would that she were to allow him.

This train of thought brought him back to the present moment. Time and distance removing Naoto from her earlier emotional state, he had no idea what was running through her head now as she sat stoically beside him. He knew a handful of conversations over a weekend couldn't heal over a decade's worth of pain, but he hoped he had at least planted a seed. The smallest nudge in the right direction was a victory. Though he didn't quite know how to communicate it, Kanji hoped she'd keep him close enough to continue nudging, perhaps even hold her hand along the way. Of course, he'd never find out any of this if they remained silent.

Shifting slightly, he glanced down at her. Though her book was open in her lap, Naoto had given up all pretense of trying to read. Kanji thought at first that she was asleep until he caught the reflection of her eyes in the glass, staring out the window at the rain. Completely in the dark as to where this conversation might lead, he drummed his fingers nervously on his armrest as he took the plunge.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" The question was constantly on his mind, but it had never occurred to him before that he could ask – or rather, that Naoto would answer. As it was, she was quiet for so long he thought she wasn't going to.

"My parents. Myself. You. The future," she finally said, each word sounding carefully planned.

"That's…a lot," Kanji replied, feeling stupid the moment the words left his mouth. 'That's a lot.' No kiddin', moron. But…I'm in there with all that important stuff. S'gotta count for somethin'.

"Mhmm," Naoto hummed in confirmation. "I sometimes wish I could turn it off."

"Hey, I'm good at that," Kanji offered, then frowned. "I mean – at not thinkin' – I mean –" He groaned. "Shuttin' up now."

Naoto's shoulders shook, and Kanji worried she was crying again until he heard soft laughter. She took off her hat and looked up at him with baggy red eyes, mouth curled in a genuine smile. "Don't. In fact –" She laid a hand over Kanji's and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. "Why don't you teach me how to knit. You always look so…peaceful when you're crafting. I'd like to capture that for myself."

Kanji swallowed hard, then turned his hand over to intertwine his fingers with Naoto's. "W-well, you know, you, uh…um, when – when you're talkin' about a case you solved, or showin' off one a'your inventions, you get this, um…you look real happy. I like that. I like you – h-happy. I like you bein' happy."

Naoto closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, and Kanji swore his erratically pounding heart completely stopped until she let it out.

"I want to be happy. And I know I can't be truly happy carrying on as I was. I believe…" She was running her thumb over his wrist absently, searching for the right words. "I want to believe you're right. I'm not the man my father was, nor am I the woman my mother was. I am simply myself, and…that's enough. If it's enough for them, and enough for my friends, then it should be enough for me. Perhaps I should have learned this lesson already, but I'm afraid it's still a new concept to me." She paused, looking down at her lap. "Thank you, Kanji-kun. I…I'm not quite sure how to say this, but thank you for…finding me to be enough, I suppose."

"Hey." Kanji squeezed her hand gently. "'Course you're enough. You're more than enough. Just want you to see that."

"I'm trying. Thank you, I mean it," she repeated, offering him a tired half-smile. "But in the meantime, let's see if I can handle a knitting lesson."

"Right, yeah! Lemme just…" Kanji looked down at their clasped hands. Reluctant though he was to break away, a sort of calm had settled in place of his usual Naoto-related anxiety, so he slipped his fingers from her grip with a feeling that it wasn't for good. As he dug through his bag for a new skein and an extra pair of needles, Naoto shoved the armrest up out of the way and inched closer to him, watching expectantly. Kanji cleared his throat – maybe 'calm' was an overstatement.

"O-okay, let's get started. Well, uh, you got your needles, and you got your yarn…"

Delving into familiar territory, Kanji began to relax as he walked Naoto through each step, and he saw tension ease from her shoulders, determination lighting her eyes. It took a little while, but she finally tackled a simple chain and contented herself with trying to keep it going. He watched her in silence for a time, a smile playing on his lips at how seriously she took her task. Wrapped up in his own little world, he almost didn't hear Naoto quietly inquiring about his plans for next weekend, almost didn't believe it when she said she would enjoy spending more time with him. Carefully adjusting her hands when she got distracted, Kanji replied that, yeah, he'd really like that, priding himself on not tripping over his words.

With that, they lapsed into a comfortable quiet, interspersed with idle conversation as they listened to the pitter-patter of droplets against the train. The worst of the storm was behind them now. Homeward bound, a new glimmer of hope was growing deep within each of them.