FUCKING PERSONA 4 FANFICTION WORK IN PROGRESS

Dear Naoto

Dear Shirogane

Hey Naoto

Naoto,

Ever since we

I think you’re

I’m not ga

I want to be

I like you okay?

Sincerely

Yours

Love

Kanji

This was how it all started. A letter stuffed into her locker that for once wasn’t labeled as fan mail for the ‘Detective Prince’. No, it wasn’t a letter really, but rather a piece of white lined paper ripped torn along the edge from where it was torn from a composition notebook. It was folded into fourths and when she opened the door to her locker for her change of shoes, the paper fluttered to the ground, having been wedged in the crevice of the door.

Its contents, as replicated above, brought a bright red blush to the junior detective’s cheeks. In the midst of all the thoughts spinning through her head, she managed wonder why Kanji would chose to use a pen and not an erasable pencil for something like this.

With a few suspicious glances around her, the realization of the note set in. It was a confession of infatuation; From Kanji Tatsumi no less. A good friend, and yes, in hindsight she could see that there had been several ‘moments’ that transpired between the two of them in the past.

The way he always blushed when their eyes met. His concern for her when her Shadow quite nearly killed her teammates. How he shifted uncomfortably from side to side whenever they found themselves in each other’s presence. Yes, it was all there. And the Detective Prince(ss) had completely failed to register visual fact.

On the walk to from school, with Kanji’s notebook paper clutched tight in her palm, she applied all of her knowledge of detective work to deal with such a development.

Why her? Why not Rise, or Yukiko, or Chie?

From all of the time spent posing a boy, Naoto wasn’t even close to being the perfect female specimen for raging teenage boy hormones. She still bound her chest and wore the boy’s uniform, despite her charade as the ‘Detective Prince’ being far over. It wasn’t that she had trouble with being a girl. She didn’t really mind being a girl, expect for all the gender bias crap she kept encountering in the police force and all the other forms of sexism women continued to face in the modern world. No, she wasn’t transsexual. In reality, Naoto didn’t see the use for aligning herself with any kind of gender roles. She was a human being, nothing more and nothing less. Being a girl didn’t define who she was. Rather, if you looked up the word androgyny in the dictionary, you could find her picture accompanying the definition. Menswear could be found in her closet. She liked earrings as much as she liked her chest binder. She kept her tampons in the same drawer where she kept her boxers. She owned a tube of mascara. But she also bit her nails down to the quick, stubby and poorly kept unlike the manicured fingers of her female classmates.

No, Naoto wasn’t what any teenaged boy would want.

But Kanji had stuffed that note in her locker.

The delinquent with a feminine side.

The detective who posed as a boy.

Everything and nothing made sense at the same time.

When Naoto had finally reached the door to her apartment, Kanji’s note was crinkled past any hope from all the folding and unfolding she had done reading it over and over again. She had committed the words to memory without intention, and it came down to memorizing the ways he slanted his words and thinking what was going through his head when he put pen to paper.

The detective prodigy had finally met a case that even she couldn’t even begin to piece together.

_

Had it not been for his mother quite literally dragging him out of bed that morning, Kanji Tatsumi would have stayed home that day, that week, that month, that year.

Between the repeated banging of his forehead against the surface of his school desk, he tried to rationalize what had ever possessed him to accept Rise’s advice. Let alone, why had he even opened his big mouth about his not so little crush on the Detective ‘Prince’?

What he claimed in the moment to be a simple case of being tongue tied, Rise had correctly called out as a Freudian Slip. The context in which the slip occurred within was too explicit to take back or attribute to anything but strong feelings for a certain blue haired, androgynous child prodigy.

Handling peer pressure wasn’t one of Kanji’s strengths. After all, he still played into the whole juvenile delinquent look and, although far more comfortable with his less manly side, kept his hobby of sewing dresses and plushies under the radar from most of the student body. Peer pressure was part of the reason why he spoke with his fists sometimes. Peer pressure (and the poor judgment commonly found in teenaged boys) was part of the reason why he stuck himself in the tattoo parlor chair and got his left shoulder inked.

Peer pressure courtesy of a teen idol was something Kanji could not even grasp with his fingertips. Soon enough, he found himself writing a love confession on a piece of scrap paper, Rise hanging over his shoulder, challenging himself with the bullshit reasoning that it was time to ‘be a man’.

With testosterone levels confident and pride of finally manning up soaring, his slipped the notebook paper in the crevice of Naoto’s locker mere minutes before the girl in question followed to retrieve her shoes.

Five minutes later during the walk back to Tatsumi Textiles, the temporary high wore off and he realized ‘Holy shit, what have I just done?’

Out of breath from back tracking a five minute walk in under a minute, Kanji was back at school. He nearly became sick all over himself when he saw that the note was, in fact, gone.

Why, why had he listened to Rise?

Why couldn’t it have been Yu, or Chie, or even Yukiko?

On the bright side, it hadn’t been Yosuke. And thank God it hadn’t been Teddie.

For the remainder of the day, Kanji had wandered about his bedroom in an absolute state of emotional panic until around three in the morning. The continued banging of his forehead against his desk was not just serving as punishment for his own stupidity, but to keep himself from falling asleep. After all, one more slip in school and he was in danger of being held back in freshman year.

By around the thirtieth meeting of his cranium to his desk, Kanji felt a presence standing in front of him that drove him to consider how Chinese Water Torture was more appealing than his current situation.

“Um…Kanji, a-are you alright?”

He really didn’t want to look up and see Naoto Shirogane standing over him, her cheeks slightly flushed and the brim of her hat pulled down over her eyes. But with his neck creaking and the rush of blood throbbing in his head, Kanji couldn’t communicate with his body to do the opposite of what it was doing.

Naoto wasn’t one to ask questions regarding the obvious. That was new.

Kanji only managed to stare at her wide eyed and mouth agape, at an utter loss for words as his soul momentarily left his body from fear.

As Rise had put it, “What’s the worse that can happen other than Naoto saying ‘no’?”

That was exactly what he was terrified of.

After a moment of shifting eyes, blushing cheeks, and nervous stuttering, Naoto turned away and thrust a CD in front of Kanji’s stunned face.

“Rise said the exchanging of a g-gift was the best way to r-reciprocate feelings. H-here, this is for you. I like tracks one, twenty nine, and thirty two the most.”

With a shaking, hesitant hand, Kanji took the CD.

Édith Piaf: Greatest Hits

As his eyes read over the French track listing, Naoto’s small voice spoke up once again.

“M-meet me for lunch on the East stairwell and d-do try not to be late.” And with that, she hurried off red faced to her seat in the back of the class room.

While Kanji Tatsumi sat shocked and confused with a CD in his hands and Naoto Shirogane pulled the brim of her cap down ever further past her eyes, Rise Kujikawa smiled giddily as she completed typing out a text message to Chie.

U owe me 2 topsicles!!!! am i cupid or what? Attached Picture: 2lovebirdsb4firstbell.jpg

That was how it all began.

Needless to say, when Yosuke had finally gotten his hands on the picture of Naoto sanguine faced and giving Kanji an Édith Piaf CD, to which he photoshopped glittering Cupids, hearts, and lips onto, the kick to the head Kanji gave him was enough to keep him on a steady dose of painkillers for the remainder of the week.

  1. phero-mones reblogged this from baptisms
  2. baptisms posted this