“Ah, it seems the recollection of how you and your father have helped each other grow is too much for you at the moment…”
Okuninushi droops, hanging his head low with a pout of exaggerated disappointment. He was perfectly able to talk about how they had helped each other for hours, (and had, to his user). But the persona didn’t want to make Naoto unhappy, and so he set the letter back down forlornly.
Maybe another day he can talk in more detail.
“Your father says much of the same thing, that I am much too… sappy. I tell him often about the lines that first drove him to tears when he read it first, and about the determination he held to make life fair for you…
Perhaps I let him say it himself, then, more often. Should I retreat back so he can have control over the consciousness once more, Little Hare?”
Disappointment is visible on Okuninushi’s face, but just saying he can continue talking about the letter and watching her wither would make him feel even worse.
Where does she even begin when it comes to explaining embarrassment, or how she just can’t listen to it without feeling proud and being a step away from dying?
“Probably… This first meeting was just a little unexpected, you know?” No time to prepare and fully understand the sappiness Dad has kept inside. So much for being the cool and sometimes stern Head Detective of Inaba. “If you want to talk to me again, that’s fine, but uh…”
There’s something she wanted to say. What was it?
“Uh, just notify me ahead of time somehow, that way I can really prepare and not be caught off guard.”
“Very true. It is none of their business what skills or connections one has for the majority of people.” Michiru meant every word by that: she’d lost count on how many times she had needed to justify her choice for her work associate and stop the endless line of questions on if it was suitable for a person with her reputation. Even though the reasoning on Reo having knowledge she didn’t possess was enough to get them off from her back it annoyed her a lot that the older, more stuck-up people didn’t get it.
On one hand she understood why but on the other she’d gotten enough proof on trusting enough in him not to turn against her. Reo was in the end a civilian with a horrible fate and a mortal with more humane viewpoint to the world than the one she had instead of a demonic being with no empathy. It was an odd combination, but on the other hand so had been her parents’ whole affair: It wasn’t like she was an exception to the whole rule.
The excitement of the prospect of being more capable to save money and fix things on her own showed in the voice tone and how she was ready to clarify her intentions. "Excellent. It would be only for maintenance and minor altering, if needed. As much as I like relying in professionals’ help they are at times slow and shipping durations are a nuisance if they are fixing a gun what I have assigned to elemental bullets instead of normal ones.” In addition to getting an actually useful skill she’d get see the dexterity and skill in action again.
“That sounds like a viable plan. Though… are you sure that insides of an radio is easy for a rookie of my level? I can try to keep up, but don’t assume me to be a miracle child or nail it perfectly.” She still had her faith in this and how it wouldn’t be a waste of time. And even though it’d be wasted time, at least it was a shared moment. Mortals liked to have them, right?
Huh?
Elemental bullets?
What?
Okay, she knows Michiru’s world is different, there are demons and no Personas and she’s a quarter angel, but what—? Elemental bullets? As in, a bullet can contain a fire spell? If she accidentally drops it, the whole room could burst into flames because of it?
It shouldn’t matter because there is no gun or elemental bullet in sight. It’s just the radio on her desk and Michiru surely didn’t bring those special things with her. She can’t leave her home without them, but a visit to a normal world should be fine. Shadows don’t crawl out of TVs and the red fog is basically done with. It’s fine.
All fine.
“Well, first you just need to unscrew the back part.” She hands Michiru a screwdriver. “Once you’re done with that, I can tell you all about the insides. It’ll be fun! Just don’t drop it…”
Unscrewing the back is the easiest step in dismantling objects. It’s working with the tiny, delicate parts that’s a hassle. No other kid at school could understand why she had a fascination with something that could easily break, take hours to repair and had any purpose that wasn’t fun, but her goals were farbeyond their understanding.
She won’t have to pay a few hundred thousand Yen just to fix a broken TV or an old PlayStation 2. Technology is a wonderful innovation. Years ago, video games would be using clunky polygon models and calling it state-of-the-art.
But really matters is the story. Graphics are less important. The hours she has spent playing Silent Hill 2 can attest to that.
“Sometimes I just don’t eat.” Forgetfulness or simply choosing not to. Either way, it’s not like she purposefully starves herself. Some people can go a full day without a full meal, and she is no stranger to that, especially when a challenging case has her in a vice grip. “But no, I’m not usually this lightheaded.” She’d be the talk of the town if she collapsed in broad daylight. Luckily, hardly anyone ventures up the hill.
“But hey, I can pretend I’m watching the clouds right now.” There aren’t any and nobody is insane enough to lie down on the grass when the gazebo is rightthere.
“Just don’t tell anyone about this, especially not the other Naotos.” Or Dad, but what are the odds of her running into him?
On a normal day, one so far from December, she wouldn’t have freaked out at all, and yet, here she was, called out by Michiru for displaying some visible sign of panic or anxiety Tsukasa wasn’t even aware of. Through a dumb technical thing, she is the youngest, having been thirteen during the Inaba case instead of sixteen.
Doesn’t mean people—alternates included—need to baby her.
“It’snothing to worry about, that’s what it is.” She forces a grin, placing a hand in her chin as she closes an eye in faux contemplation. “We never did decide on what we were doing today, Michi.”
(It’s the sequel to the other 4000+ word long post about canon!Naoto looking at Justice!Naoto’s memories except there aren’t a whole of memories to look at here. This could have been a lot better because you can tell I gave up at certain points but whatever. As always, there are probably typos in here. And the only person required to read this is @jesterofinaba.)
In the gray expanse of fog filled nothing, there was a door. Old, looked like it came from a detective movie set. She pushed it open and entered a study. The room was bigger than any room she ever saw, filled with books and Naoto could easily see herself spending a week inside. She would have immediately went for the books to kill time, but there was another person in the room she failed to see. In the chair facing the desk, there was…
Her?
It was hard to deny that kid was her, or another her. It’d explain why she was sitting in an unfamiliar room and not freaking the fuck out. Reaching out to the other her resulted in her hand going right through, but she didn’t even flinch, made no comments or shivers. The thing about the kid was that she was so small, head hung down low and staring at the ground, although Naoto had a feeling she really wasn’t looking anywhere.
The door swung open. An old man she didn’t recognize stepped into the study and took a seat at the desk. He didn’t speak, only readjusted his glasses. When the other her finally looked up with those same downcast eyes, he spoke. “I finally made a decision.” Neither of them seemed happy. “It would be for the best that you stayed with someone more adequate.”
Shirogane—better than referring to the other her as well, ‘other her’—didn’t say a word. The most she did was look down. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, her grandfather shifted in his seat, and finally, Shirogane looked at her grandfather. “I understand.”
What really haunted her was the way she tried to sound so mature about the whole thing, but there was clear hurt in her voice. Maybe it was because she recognized most of the tics, from keeping her eyes glued to one spot, or how the already balled hands in her lap became tighter. Maybe it was because she was clearly lying and wanted to say ‘don’t leave me’, but there wasn’t anything Naoto could do to make either of these two reconsider.
“I should pack my belongings.” Shirogane didn’t give her grandfather time to respond as she stiffly walked out.
Naoto was about to follow her because it seemed to be the only thing worth looking at besides an old man blankly staring at a certain spot on the desk, but the scene jumped, cut to Shirogane in her room with a single box. A photo frame face down on her desk, a bunch of other things that needed to be packed but weren’t. Shirogane was lying face up on her bed, staring vacantly at something lurking beyond the ceiling.
Then it jumped again. A quick flashes, like someone didn’t want her to see any of it. Shirogane lashing out at some kid, being scolded, staying with another person, listlessly ignoring things, anger, staying with a third, more anger and resentment. There was frustration in everyone’s voice and by the third, it was clear that everyone had enough.
It cut again, Shirogane and her grandfather somewhere in their giant house, the same box by her feet, just more beat up and on the verge of breaking. Suddenly, it went dark and all she could hear was, “I’m sorry.”
-
This place felt like the “in-between” as she called it. That spot where she wasn’t really dead, but not really alive, and certainly not anywhere familiar. If she had to guess, that was another Naoto in the seemingly infinite scheme of the multiverse. So that was a world where her grandfather was alive, but her parents never lived in a fancy house like that.
Well, anything could happen.
Such as trapping her in some basement. Cold and dark, all she could use to see was a lightbulb on the verge of fizzling out. A locked door and more importantly, an old film projector on a table. There was a film reel cabinet and of course, the drawers without the four digit lock—seriously, who fucking locked these?—were empty. All in all, a run of the mill survival horror game like Silent Hill.
There had to be an obnoxiously well hidden clue somewhere because a detective needed clues to do anything. The old film reel cabinet was bolted to its spot, even though there was nothing keeping it there. Under the table and basically blind as a bat, Naoto patted until her fingers brushed against a sheet of paper. After removing the tape keeping it there, she brought to the brightest spot in the room, which happened to be the dying lightbulb.
Instead of a dumb riddle or logic problem, the clue was a shitty bird perched on a square object. Sharp beak, sharp talons… a bird of prey. If she held it far away, it looked like a deformed falcon.
It looked like—
Immediately, she rushed for the drawer, put in 1-9-4-1 and the lock opened. It made sense this person would have gone for the movie adaptation if there was a film projector in some musty basement. Naoto reached inside and pulled out a reel. A black marker covered anything the label could have said and inspecting it under the lightbulb didn’t help. Without much of a choice, Naoto inserted it into the projector, turned it on and saw herself again.
Front mug shot, eyebrows and mouth tilted downwards into a scowl. This felt like Shirogane, just older, complete with dark circles under her eyes. Crisp suit. The same newsboy hat her dad gave her on her head. Held a sign with any identifiable piece of information carved out.
With a creak, the door swung open.
She expected Shirogane to come in, revolver in hand, sounding crazed and ready to kill a ghost, but nothing came out, and Naoto decided that was the worse part. What she presumed was the hallway was pitch black. There really wasn’t anywhere else to go but forward. At most, whatever was in there would fail to kill her, or she’d just die again despite already being dead.
-
The door closed and Naoto was in a hotel room, except this wasn’t a fancy five-star hotel. Maybe one star. The only light in the room came from the desk lamp, and there was Shirogane, typing away at her laptop while holding her phone between her left shoulder and head. Eventually she gave up and took one hand off the keyboard to hold it.
“It isn’t the 27th in America, Grampa.” She winced. “I’ll sleep soon. I’m still working on my report.”
Shirogane seemed annoyed that her typing speed had been reduced to half, but Naoto had to admit, she never saw someone type that quickly with one hand.
There was a sigh and Naoto could imagine an eye roll.
“I’m too old for a birthday present.” What came next must have been shocking because she stopped typing. “Wh—” A frustrated sigh. “I should have expected something like that.”
Too frustrated to type, Shirogane began tapping her finger. “Fourteen is too old, Grampa.” She stopped. “Please don’t be concerned. Just another year has gone by.”
She shook her head. “Yakushiji and you are all I need. I have no time to waste with school or friends.”
Then she sighed again. “I love you too. One day, you won’t need to worry about… any of this.”
Once her goodbyes were said, the phone was placed on the desk and Shirogane returned to full speed, furiously typing away.
There was something a little sad seeing her work on her birthday and at 2 AM in the morning, but maybe that was her. Maybe it was because Shirogane seemed to accept that life wouldn’t stop for a birthday. Dad made a big deal of getting her a cake, a few presents and sashimi for dinner. But he was like that because he wanted her to have a childhood he never got to have, and just because he loved her that much. When she had a bad day, he’d also go all out, not as much as a special day, but something similar. He would have moved a skyscraper if it would make her happy.
Shirogane kept working and Naoto left through the door.
-
Finally, she was somewhere familiar, the Junes food court. Never thought she would have missed the place, but this was an example of missing something once it was gone. They wouldn’t see her, but Naoto ran over to the table where the Investigation Team table were sitting. Seeing them felt nice again, from Narukami’s stupid looking bowlcut to Hanamura’s punchable face.
“At this rate, you have to figure that the killer has something to do with the school, right? So why don’t we split up and—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
That was her voice, forced into a deeper pitch. Naoto looked up, saw Shirogane with the same scowl-looking expression, the same dark circles under cold gunmetal eyes. Hand on her hip, she flatly told them to ‘fuck off’ and let the police handle it. If the Naoto from earlier was fourteen, she was about sixteen now, the same age as the Investigation Team.
“Your “game” will soon reach its end. I felt I should at least let you know that.”
Naoto slammed her hands on the table, but of course, nobody noticed. “It wasn’t a game!” she said, at the same time Narukami said something similar. If she was an investigator, surely she would have considered emotional investment or something. Show her irritation in subtle ways that didn’t make her look like a prick.
“You don’t deny, then, that you have involved yourselves in the matter? Well, no matter. I have no reason to say anything further.”
“A game…? Aren’t you the one who thinks of this as a game?”
At this point, she decided that paying attention to who was saying what didn’t matter because she was too busy thinking about how Shirogane and her couldn’t be any more different.
“I don’t care if you’re a special investigator or an amateur sleuth… All you’re doing is solving mysteries. What could you possibly know about us? You’re the one who’s playing a game here.”
There wasn’t a lot she learned about Shirogane. Didn’t have a smooth childhood, apparently became a working detective at fourteen, just a few second ago, she had approached them like a snobby anime villain trying to put the protagonists in their place, except the team weren’t taking her shit. There was something in her voice Naoto couldn’t place, some anger none of them caught onto, but then again, they were lacking in the intelligence department in multiple ways.
“Oh, I get it. I was wondering why you’d be wandering around like this when the police have a suspect. What, did they get rid of you now that they have their man? Is that why you came here? You were lonely?”
Because of how much of an asshat Shirogane was, Naoto actually cheered on Hanamura mentally when he said that. However, if he dared to say that to her, she would have made his life a living hell, more than she already did with the way she scammed Junes and his wallet.
There was a smile, but it didn’t feel like one. Not even a smirk. Just a quirk of her lips because she didn’t seem to know how to react. “Detectives normally aren’t involved with arrests. And we never harbor any special emotions regarding a case, either.” But that confidence faltered because the already balled up fist by her side tightened and her eyes looked down at the ground. “Still… It is rather unfortunate that people are only attentive so long as our services are required…” And quickly as it appeared, it was shoved away again. “But then, I’m accustomed to it.”
Hanamura struck a nerve and Naoto was this close to yelling at Shirogane for being so pathetic that he of all people dealt some damage, but she had to remember that she was an asshole. An asshole that could have been her if Dad hadn’t rescued her. Or maybe she wouldn’t have turned out like this.
“Much about this case was perplexing, but its solution was surprisingly simple… Well then, I’ll be going now.”
Shirogane left through the food court doors.
It probably depended on if she was picked up as a detective or something. If left alone, she might have been sad and a crybaby. Maybe she could have been an asshole like Shirogane. Maybe not as much because there were some things about Shirogane that were emphasized to ward off potential threats. One thing she definitely knew they would have shared in common was the loneliness. Nobody to talk to or hangout with. Just by themselves. Shirogane didn’t want to make friends and the only reason Naoto had some now was because Dad insisted that there was more to life beyond good grades and getting into a good university.
There was a lot she couldn’t figure out because she could never be sure unless she saw, and Naoto didn’t want to.
The conversation sidetracked into something boring, and Naoto left the same way Shirogane had gone.
-
Shirogane was a few meters away from the team, sourly watching them engage in idle banter and whatever stupid things high schoolers did. In her eyes, the only noticeable emotion Naoto could make out was resentment. Maybe it was because they made her look like an idiot. It was what she deserved for being a jerk.
-
On second thought, it was probably jealousy and now, Naoto felt a little sad.
The sight of Shirogane sitting on the hill overlooking town at some ungodly hour in the morning probably helped. At the very least, it explained the dark circles under her eyes.
-
Shirogane transferred to Yasogami and despite the numerous attempts the team made to put the interaction behind them, she refused each and every one.
They were the same and not really, but Naoto could imagine that she resented the gestures and also felt like it was something she didn’t deserve. The latter part, she could relate to. A younger her always doubted Dad when he showed her basic kindness and did something as simple as listen to her. Things a normal kid would take for granted and not bat an eye at. When it came down to it, she did make a big deal out of things like Dad did, except it was all in her head most of the time.
-
After what Naoto assumed was her kidnapping and subsequent rescue, Shirogane was sitting at the food court with the others and doing an admirable job of auditioning for the role of tree. Hardly spoke, looked so out of place, any frustration Naoto had disappeared all together because that could have been her sitting there. Or at the end of a shitty table, would have been shoved off at some point.
The only reason Dad and her were a family was because of a chance meeting that happened at the right time and place. A second earlier or later and no Shirogane-Adachi. All Dad needed to do was immediately return her to the orphanage or let her stay in station and no Shirogane-Adachi. If not for a very specific set of events, no seeing Dad as Dad.
For her credit, Shirogane looked like she wanted to say something multiple times, eyes darting from schoolwork to the chatter. Unfortunately, every time she was about to speak, it seemed as if someone took the words out of her mouth. It really didn’t help that a lot of the conversation was inside jokes and references to shit she had no idea of.
Why bother?
Eventually, she gave up and went back to work.
-
Standing in the hallway, the team—plus Dojima a little in the back—gathered around—
This had to be some kind of sick joke. Everything was wrong, Dojima looking at the scene, how Dad— Adachi was wearing a suit and an awful crooked red tie—kind of like her Shadow after her makeover. His awful double bridged glasses were nowhere in sight. Dad was already pretty thin, but Adachi looked thinner and honestly, Shirogane looked equally as thin.
“Just one more thing, please.” The distant tone made one thing clear. “We know for certain now that the first two murders weren’t Namatame’s doing. Someone else killed them. Adachi-san… Do you have any idea who that might be?”
“I-I have no idea what you’re talking about…”
“‘Cause we think it mighta been you.”
If he—
“What!? Th-That’s ridiculous! We already know Namatame’s the one who put them all in!”
Oh.
She stood there for hours until the commotion became too much for Adachi. Shoving Dojima to the side he ran down the hall, and with her mind on autopilot, Naoto followed. As she chased after him, the hallway became less like a hallway. Defined lines lost its definition and soon, she was chasing after Adachi in a drawing of a hallway. One of the doors was open. Inside was a younger Shirogane again, an expression of shock and grief, too numb to even pay attention to what the nurses were saying.
Naoto wanted to say she didn’t know what was going on, but she did.
In an empty room, Adachi jumped into the TV. Naoto kept running down the hallway and found herself in Yamano’s room.
She’d snuck off into the TV once, shortly after gaining her Persona. Found her way to the room in the TV World. It looked just like this, splotches of paint, torn up posters of the enka singer, the scarf noose. Nobody was inside then, but the sight was enough to make her feel nauseous. All of that was there with the team and of course, Adachi, giving them a crooked grin and some equally crooked speech she couldn’t even hear.
Dad had given that smile before, but his eyes were never that hollow.
-
Magatsu Inaba.
If there was any silly hope of Shirogane’s grandfather dying, being sent to the orphanage and then being adopted by Adachi, it was blown out the window when she gave him the look that said scum before pinning his crimes. No tells that she was upset at finding out her Dad was the killer. Just pure anger. Similarly, Adachi didn’t have any tells, and while she didn’t know them as well, Naoto knew Dad well enough that he would never hurt her. Even if Dad had turned out to be the killer, he still wouldn’t have hurt her.
“I made one tiny mistake, and they all got on my case and sent me out here to Nowheresville as punishment…”
He was demoted, Dad was promoted. He hated Inaba, Dad was ecstatic at the idea of being able to keep the peace. She certainly shared the same sentiment Adachi had when she first arrived. It was boring and the only reason she hadn’t blown up harder than she did when Dad told her was because he was happy. A house, somewhere safe for her to grow up, and though he didn’t say it, away from his parents. Despite how criminally boring it was, part of her came to like this town.
“Those who actually succeed in life… They just happen to be born with the magic ticket called “talent”. If you don’t have it, you can either accept or deny that fact until you die. That’s your only choice.”
It wasn’t just talent, she thought. There was luck involved. She was an example of luck. Dad was an example of luck. Neither of them were put into fortunate situations. Dad with his awful parents and hers in prison for kids. She could have had all the talent in the world, but she never would have been where she was now if not for that simple decision to run. Not only that, but it also depended on Dad.
“Listen… You might have hopes and dreams right now, but that’s only because you know nothing about reality. One day you’ll see… You’ll be faced with the boring reality that boxes you in, no matter where you go.”
She knew that Dad wouldn’t be where he was if not for her. He made that point clear when he consoled in the hospital while she went on about being a fuck up. There was that place. Felt like this place except ten times foggier. Maybe it was because Ameno Sagiri hadn’t been beaten up yet. Maybe it didn’t matter.
What kind-of sort-of mattered was this, that Dad could have fallen victim to an eyeball living in his brain and spouting some bullshit about the world needing to end because society was shit. Throw a tantrum about it instead of trying to make the system less shit.
She hated to admit it, but that might have been her, too.
-
She had been prepared for Shirogane and Adachi to fight. They weren’t family here. Just two enemies who wanted to beat the shit out of each other. Once would have been fine. But right before the eyeball showed itself, she was thrown back to the beginning again, forced to watch the same thing happen over and over.
The more she watched, the more she realized there were subtle differences. Hama instead of Mudo, right hook instead of a jab, bloodied head leaving a trail against the rock, bullet piercing Adachi’s shoulder with an almost wicked, vengeful grin—that Shirogane scared her the most. So many aberrations that Naoto realized these were all different timelines and universes. By now, so many of them passed by but a voice in her head said something like 200.
Dad and her were meant to be enemies. Not a single timeline like hers had shown up. They were never meant to save each other, they were meant to hate each other.
After being slapped with that truth so many times, she fell to her knees and cried. No one was around to see and the fight continued on, oblivious to a ghost crying just a few meters away from them. She felt sad but it also kind of felt like nothing. It wasn’t crying for the sake of crying, but it was a hollow kind of crying.
Upset, not upset, upset again, then not again. Never sure of how to feel.
Even in death she learned she was massive screwup and couldn’t even follow the blueprint left behind by countless Adachis and Shiroganes. Learning that Dad and her were the only exceptions to the route of beating the shit out of each other didn’t help. The Persona that came out of Adachi was Magatsu Izanagi, chaos and calamity reflected in its yellow eyes. Okuninushi didn’t exist. Inaba, that annoying bastard of a rabbit didn’t exist.
The Shirogane-Adachi family shouldn’t have existed. They deviated from script and ended up dying to restore balance or whatever. What was the point of spending her last moments of awareness crying over how different Dad and her were?
-
Dad was there. Reached his hand out. Smiled at her with a lopsided smile meant to be comforting except it kind of pissed her the fuck off. Why was he here, acting like he still considered her his daughter after all of that? She wanted to spit in his face and call him a liar because that was all he ever was.
Alternatively, she could reach out too. Forget everything. Just pretend everything was okay. Ignore the anger twisting and tying knots in her stomach. What had he ever done for her? Her brows furrowed and Naoto bared her teeth. Slapping his hand away, she said, “Get away from me, you goddamn murderer!”
Immediately, the switch in her head turned on. Naoto reached deep into her skull, felt around for a chain and yanked it out. Clutching her head in pain, a guttural growl escaped her throat and a heavy weight released itself from her heart and manifested somewhere behind. She extended an arm, pointed at Adachi and Magatsu Izanagi drove the blade clean through.
And everything went dark.
-
The tap on her shoulder startled Naoto. Looking right, she discovered it was none other than Dad, apparently noticing how she lagged behind the rest of the team. Everyone chalked it up to her feeling tired after shoving it to Izanami and she liked it that way. But Dad was Dad and because he raised her, he always knew something was up. He smiled that lopsided smile of his, eyes the opposite of hollow. She tried to match, but it failed because his smile dropped and immediately, Concerned Dad Mode was brought out.
“Did something happen back there?”
A lot of things did. How they were the only two that became a family, a part where something was living in her body and decided to commit a crime—maybe it was a hallucination because she had been more upset than she thought—wondering what the point of anything was if they were too different from the rest. Remembering how she kind of died a violent death thanks to Izanami and her Thousand Curses and Naoto wouldn’t have been surprised if it was going to plague her dreams from now on.
But they won and Dad was there and after seeing how nice the TV World looked, the first thing he did was run over and hug her, going on and on about how he was glad that she was safe. Complete opposite of his other counterpart. He’d never leave her for the wolves. He spent years telling her it was okay and that she wasn’t broken then and still wasn’t.
They won and Naoto didn’t want to dwell too much on something that would ruin the spirit of victory. Her worries were dumb, anyway.
“Nothing really happened. It was kind of boring, actually.”
Adachi breathes out a soft chuckle and he lifts up another bite of the tamago kake gohan to his mouth. After eating it, he gives her a wry look and gestures at her with his chopsticks.
“I can eat alone, you know, it’s not like I’m going to spit it out in a napkin to fool you.”
A trick younger kids usually try to pull off. He remembers doing it with his mom’s nimono nearly every time she served it just so he wouldn’t have to eat the renkon. Since he could actually cook meals he liked now, and because he wanted to be a good example for Naoto, he usually makes an attempt to really eat it.
“Go get ready for the day, and then you can come back and we’ll watch the movie. How about…” A similar look like he was pretending to be lost in thought. “If I’m done by the time you get back, I get to pick whether we watch it in Japanese or English. Deal?”
“Okay, okay. The real aim of the game is to make sure you aren’t a lazybum.” No officer in the station dares to call Dad a ‘slacker’ or someone who doesn’t deserve to be head detective because he makes it pretty clear that he’s anything but that. Maybe they’re too stunned that a beanpole is in charge.
After cleaning up after her bowl, Naoto grabs her belongings off the couch before dumping it in her room. Quickly, she changes into something casual—not like she’s going out today—and begins her daily routine. Looking in the mirror, her eyes are still a little hollow, but it’s nothing like earlier in the morning. If Dad hadn’t insisted, she would have gone to school looking like a zombie.
Naoto straightens the blanket and tidies up the bed, knowing Dad will gently scold her for being sloppy, but to be fair, she can’t stand a mess either. It just takes a long time for the fuse to light up.
Once all of that is done, she’s ready to meet Dad in the kitchen again and of course, the trusty hat tags along.
“So, what will it be, Head Detective, Japanese or English?”
