... In which I, after defeating the God of Control and seemingly securing the freedom of humanity, am stopped from turning myself in to the police by someone who I thought I had lost forever, someone whose return may change everything.

******************************************

"I'll ask you once more."

A chilling dread to match the stiff December breeze grips my chest as I hold Sae's gaze. I had a feeling that she would ask something like turning myself in, and I already know that I can't say no even if the thought makes me swallow a lump of anxiety.

I hug myself against the relentless cold; it's stiffening my limbs and caressing my exposed face with icy fingers. I guess this is what I have to do if I really want to save the world. Somehow, challenging the God of Control wasn't enough yet. Somehow, there's still more I'm expected to do.

I hate myself a little for how tired and unwilling the thought makes me feel. It's not that I don't want to do everything in my power to help . . . I suppress a shiver, thinking that I just want to go back to my friends, back home, to celebrate and return to normalcy. I just want all of this to finally be over.

"I'd like for you to turn yourself in to the police, of your own accord," Sae says, and I cast my eyes down, opening my mouth to tell her I'll do it.

"There's no need for that."

The words strike me like a thunderbolt, not because of their meaning but because of the voice. There is no mistaking it for any other, not considering how desperately I've attempted to cling to the memory of it and not forget its sound, no matter what. For a moment, I think I'm going to pass out.

My eyes find him instantly; he strides out of the crowd with the same, distinct confidence that I remember . . . that I will never forget. Coming to a halt between us, Akechi faces Sae, but I can make out that his features are relaxed, the corner of his mouth slightly upturned.

"You . . ." Sae breaks off, stunned.

I can't look away, only try to convince myself that this isn't some kind of wishful mirage. My mind is racing but blank all at once, and my vision grows blurry with tears.

"If they get their hands on the perpetrator, there'll be no need for her to turn herself in, no?" Akechi says to Sae, shrugging.

My mouth opens and closes, then opens again. I have seldom wanted to scream at the top of my lungs more than at that very moment. If he is here . . . if he is really here, I . . .

". . . Akechi?"

> "You're . . . alive . . . ?"

"But how . . . ?"

My voice is quiet, breathless . . . barely audible against the crowd's noises, but Akechi turns to face me anyway. He's here . . . I think, but I don't process—not quite. Not yet.

"That appears to be the case," he says and the corner of his mouth turns up again. The genuine smile, that I haven't seen for so long that I can't remember the last time I did, feels like he reached between my ribs into my chest and gave my beating heart a gentle squeeze.

"You said, "There's no need" . . ." Sae chimes in. "Just what do you mean by that?"

It is only when she asks that I process what he said earlier, about . . .

"Exactly as it sounds," Akechi says. "I'll agree to testify against Shido and his crimes." He turns to me again, eyes slightly narrowed, like he's only now taking me in properly. "I assume that works for you?"

He is . . . turning himself in.

In retrospect, I'm not sure why it took so long to sink in. Maybe because the whole encounter felt so unreal . . . Maybe because I was more occupied with processing that he wasn't dead than any of what he was actually saying. Whatever it was . . . at that moment, the walls came crashing down . . . and I barely stopped myself from yelling—no!

I must have convinced myself that I had moved on at some point. For the sake of my friends and for the sake of the world that we found ourselves having to save. But maybe that wasn't true after all . . . Maybe what I had done was called denial and not acceptance.

Denial . . . enabled by the distraction that was the massive task we had found on our hands, briefly disrupted by nights of lying awake, staring at the marker crow on my wall, fighting the urge to dwell on memories I couldn't afford. Enabled also by the fact that it turned out I was right and nobody ever found the need to bring it all up again. Because he was gone, and there was nothing any of us could do about it . . . until Yaldabaoth revealed the game we were set up to play. That cost him his life . . .

But it did not, I think, drawing in a breath. He is not gone. I breathe in slowly. Akechi . . . is here.

I look up into his eyes and clench my fists so hard that it hurts. My mind flies back to the last time I saw that face, moments before the shutter fell. He told me to live . . . and he sacrificed himself so that I could do it. Last time we spoke, he sacrificed himself, and . . . I feel my heart hammer violently against my ribs and blink rapidly to purge the ever-rising tears. Now he reappears, only to . . . do it again.

He is doing the right thing, says a voice in my head. He did last time, and he is now. I wipe my face with my sleeve, trying to convince myself that it's the melted snowflakes that are wetting it.

> "Why are you doing this . . . ?"

"You're turning yourself in . . . ?"

"I have no hidden agenda at this point, if that's what you mean." Akechi shrugs, and I almost take a step closer to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he understands that that's not what I meant.

But maybe my emotions are more visible on my face than I assumed because Akechi gives me a long look before he raises his hand to straighten his glove. "If I had to explain myself, I'd say it's simply personal principle that I repay my debts."

Everything that my friends said and I had hoped for—that he would be changed, willing to atone if he came back—assaults my mind. You were right—all of you were, says my voice of reason, heeding me to rejoice, but I don't want to listen to it. Right now, I can't be happy about being right. Because just once, I want to throw logic out the window and break down crying here, in front of the entire world.

Why is it that, whenever you and I try to do the right thing, we have to be selfless!? I urge to yell. Why do we have to do it even though nobody is forcing us to? We already saved, we already sacrificed. Why do we . . . Why do you come back just to leave me again?!

Shame for even thinking something so selfish clogs my throat and I can barely see Akechi's face through the tears. I wipe them away; I'll savor every moment I get to look at him like it's the last . . . because it may just be.

. . . Because, apparently, we would both sacrifice ourselves before others have to do it. We would both turn ourselves in . . . out of personal principle.

For a heartbeat, I am able to relish the seeming confirmation that what I assumed about him defeating his distortions and rediscovering his purpose—his own principle—seems to have been correct.

"For the time being, at least," Sae finally resumes speaking. "I'll take your word that you'll cooperate with the investigation."

He will; I would have told Sae that I have less than zero doubts about this if I wasn't preoccupied, trying to find words to say to Akechi before he disappears again.

"That would save a lot of time." He smiles, and my panic grows.

"I'm sorry . . ." Sae turns to me. "You can forget everything I just told you. I'll take him in myself."

There it is again . . . the urge to yell—no! What if it doesn't work for me? I think and almost sob. What if it doesn't—what if it's not—!

Before I can say another word or even have the mind to hold him back by his sleeve and . . . I'm honestly not even sure what I was going to do if I had the mind for that . . . Akechi turns on his heel and strides off with the same confidence with which he appeared earlier. Back into the crowd . . . back out of my reach. It is then that my heart—which I had only haphazardly stitched together, as it turns out—finally breaks apart again.

Sae looks after Akechi for a moment, and I'm valiantly fighting the impulse to cry. Only when Akechi is out of sight does she turn back to me. "I won't try to claim that everything will turn out perfectly for you," she says. "But I would bet that this case will reach its natural conclusion . . . No, in fact, I swear that this will be properly settled. You . . ." She tilts her head. "Are you . . . alright?"

I lower my gaze, urgently hoping she can't see my face very well. I'm not, but . . . I nod anyway—hastily, hoping that she believes me. This has nothing to do with Sae. I am not about to burden her with my irrational feelings. For goodness sake, I don't even fully know why Akechi's return, of all things, makes me feel so much like crying!

Sae gives me another long look, then apparently decides to leave it alone; she turns and disappears in the same direction Akechi did, leaving me on the busy main square . . . alone. I stare at my hands, trying to muster enough will to start moving again.

I have to get home soon, or Sojiro will be worried. I can . . . I clench my hands into fists. I can do exactly what I wanted earlier . . . I can go home. I can celebrate and go back to normalcy . . . just like I wanted. My vision is so blurry that I can barely see.

I jump and sniff when something familiar bumps into my leg. "There you are," Morgana says sternly. "The others are worried about you. What's taking so long? Was that Sae just now? She said something about Shido, didn't she?"

I manage to nod. It only then hits me that I will have to tell my friends about this . . . How I'm supposed to muster the strength or the words is a different question.

I can't bring myself to look away from the silhouettes of my hands. Shido and the masses have undergone a change of heart . . . The God of Control has been defeated . . . How the Metaverse will look—whether anything will have changed or whether it will persist just as Morgana said, as a simple alternate dimension where distorted desires manifest independently from any entity at its core—and whether Mementos will still exist, we will have to find out later.

But honestly . . . I couldn't care less at the moment. Yes . . . Shido's case is headed toward its resolution. This . . . I breathe in, and it sounds suspiciously like a sob. This must be how . . . things were supposed to happen. But . . . were they? I raise my gaze, deluding myself that I could still make him out in the busy crowd.

If you were . . . alive all this time . . . I think and stuff my hands into my pockets. Where have you been? All this time, you were . . .

". . . Rin? Are you coming or not?"

My head jerks down to Morgana, who nudges my leg again. "You can space out in the subway. Boss expects you back, you know!"

Sojiro . . . of course. But . . .

I take a deep breath and finally force my legs to move, following Morgana to the subway. He hides out in my coat during the ride, and I almost miss my station because of the question that beats against the fragile threads holding me together emotionally, keeping me from breaking down in the middle of the subway train: If you were alive all this time, why did you not come back sooner?

I have no answer. There has to be one . . . and I curse myself for not holding him back, for not dragging him off with me to someplace where we could have talked before he would've had to leave. I hate myself for missing this chance . . . How many times have I called him just to listen to his voicemail? How many times have I sent and unsent messages to him as my vision blurred with tears?

We could have used your help, I think, then. We could have helped you. Whatever he had to be dealing with . . . it must have been unpleasant. Shido likely found out about his betrayal. I wonder if he, before his change of heart, sent someone after Akechi . . . to find him, maybe even to eliminate him, just as he had planned. Was that why Akechi didn't come to us? Did he go into hiding? Was he alone, in danger, all this time . . . and . . . I swallow. And he didn't come to ask us for help. Not even me. Not anyone.

. . . If that was what happened.

"Hey!" Morgana hisses out of my coat, and I wince. "That announcement was for our station! Are you listening?"

I get off the subway and can no longer ignore the worried gazes that Morgana shoots me the entire time. Sojiro greets me warmly, and even though I'm happy to be back home, I'm glad that my friends agreed to celebrate tomorrow—right now, I'm not really in the mood for a party.

As soon as I've finished my dinner and Morgana and I are back in my room, he blurts out: "Something's wrong, isn't it? You're even quieter than usual. Are you . . . Rin, have you been crying?"

I hold his gaze for a heartbeat . . . then I collapse onto my bed and break into proper tears. I'm still not sure why I'm crying . . . Akechi's alive—I should rejoice, shouldn't I? Whether it's the overwhelming nature of the news, my own regrets and longings, or every single ounce of emotion that I've repressed for the last month . . . it bursts out at that moment. There is no holding back . . . no people to be strong for, no world to save, no . . . anything I'm expected to do anymore . . . just like I wanted.

Morgana lets me cry until I physically can't anymore, and I'm beyond grateful for that. He's perched on the windowsill, and when the tears finally abate, I follow his gaze, admiring the stars speckling the night sky. Then, I tell him everything.

Everything that I couldn't bring myself to say aloud before . . . starting with the confusing emotions and the immense feelings of being torn, which started in the Prison of Regression. The shock, but also the lingering feeling of unexpected sympathy with the individuals who dared break out to pursue their individuality. The irritation with everyone's apathy mixed with the pain of seeing people willing to sacrifice their uniqueness for the sake of conformity. How much I hated it—not just the oppression but the seeming willingness of humanity. How it was honestly . . . terrifying.

I am the one who won't stop believing.

The words resonate within me . . . They meant something slightly different when I said them to Akechi all that time ago, compared to when I yelled them at the False God who claimed to possess the right to strip people of their uniqueness and force them under his thumb.

I'm not quite sure what it was that triggered the awakening of a new power in me . . . Whether it was the unwavering support or the rush of will—not only to rebel but also to save and to protect—that I felt when Yaldabaoth stood on the cusp of victory. I still hear the voice of Arsené turn into that of . . . Sophia, whispering to me about determination and the transformative power of unity and granting strength—not just to me but to my friends as well. It was our collective effort, all our wills of rebellion combined, that resisted Yaldabaoth's oppression and overpowered him in the end.

And, in that moment . . . I really felt like the one who wouldn't stop believing. Whether humanity wanted it or not, I wasn't going to give up on it, not in a million years. I believe, I think, and sniff. I believed in every single one of my friends until they believed in themselves, and I believed in humanity until the power of this will broke the chains of what was oppressing and holding us back.

I will keep believing, I think. No matter what happens. No matter who needs me to. I will rally everyone I can to fight for their liberties and for a world where everyone can be true to themselves without sacrificing their identities for the sake of safety . . . or anything.

And then, when I've finally gotten all the un-leaderlike emotions I dealt with during the latest confrontation out of the way, I finally tell Morgana about Sae and . . . Akechi. About what she proposed and about what he did.

Morgana nearly falls off the windowsill in shock. But he can't offer any plausible explanation either when I pose the question that's been on my mind about why Akechi stayed away if he was alive all this time.

"Maybe he really did have to go into hiding . . . ?" Morgana shakes his head. "I don't know. But . . . if Akechi isn't dead and if he's cooperating with the authorities, then that means that everyone who supported Shido really is done for. There's nobody better suited to dismantle the last remains of this conspiracy than someone who was once so closely entangled in it. Remember how we once asked ourselves if there are still more conspirators out there who are evading prosecution? With a changed Shido's and a willing Akechi's efforts, they also don't stand a chance."

I nod. Morgana is not wrong . . . Besides Shido himself, Akechi is likely the one who knew the most about just how far this conspiracy reached and how to take down its last lingering remains. His help will be much more valuable than mine would have been.

"You . . . you know that this is for the best, right?" Morgana jumps down onto the bed beside me and nudges me. "We won. And . . . Akechi is alive. Not only that, but he's also doing the right thing now. And . . . you'll see him again," he says, but I hear the doubt in his voice.

I can't meet Morgana's eyes. You're alive . . . I think to myself and finally lay down properly, my gaze meeting the marker crow on my wall. You're doing your best to atone, to undo what you once helped enable . . .

But in that case . . . why does it feel like nothing has changed? Not enough . . . I think shortly before sleep envelops me. I don't know what I meant by that exactly—just that something in my chest was longing. Whether it was a selfish thought such as "It isn't enough that he is alive, I want him back here with me" or a selfless one like "I don't want him to spend the holiday in custody, all by himself" . . . I will never know.

But in the end . . . it mattered surprisingly little, whether it was one or even both combined, as I would soon find.

***

"Akechi did what!?" I flinch at Futaba's surprised cry.

"He turned himself in to the police. Sis told me yesterday. He's admitted to being the perpetrator behind the recent cases," Makoto concludes her explanation of what happened.

I am beyond grateful that she took over, telling the others about Akechi in my stead. Even though I spent Christmas Day mostly recovering from the strains of the fight and have tried to psych myself up for the Christmas party my friends had announced they were throwing in the evening . . . now that they're all here, I still feel exhausted.

"That's right. He seemed pretty determined, also to testify against Shido," Morgana chimes in, and I nod.

"He did it so that I didn't have to . . ."

> "I'm only here because he turned himself in, in my stead."

". . . Right." Makoto throws me a worried look. "I didn't consider that. But whatever his motivation was, it was the right thing to do if he is truly trying to make amends."

I nod. But that wasn't what I . . .

"So he's alive . . ." Yusuke shakes his head.

"Akechi-kun survived and owned up to what he did . . ."

I frown, inadvertently thinking Ann sounds surprised about more than just the fact that he is alive . . . Then I wonder if I should also be a little more surprised, at least astonished, by the strength of his conviction. But no . . . All doubts I ever had about Akechi's sincerity died with him in the engine room. Except, of course . . . he didn't die.

"Well, I feel it's for the best," says Haru, and I can't help the sorrowful pang I feel from her words. "If Akechi-kun is alive and he can atone for his crimes . . . that's not a bad turn of events."

"Right!" exclaims Ryuji. "Ain't that all stuff to be happy about?"

"Mhm," Haru says, smiling.

Observing all the happy faces, I swallow. I should feel happy too, I can't help but think. I'm racked with guilt for it, but I . . . can't. Just because it's technically the right thing of him to do and because I'm technically glad that he really is trying to make amends . . . that doesn't mean I didn't spend the whole day thinking about what he is doing right now . . . whether he's somewhere alone or in any discomfort.

I want to see him, I think, and bury my hands in my pockets, hoping my friends don't let my pain, which has to be visible on my face, ruin their party. I want to see him and thank him for turning himself in, in my stead. For making this party possible in that way. I want to ask . . . to yell at him for not coming back sooner, for making us all believe he was dead for so long. To tell him that I missed him, that I'm overjoyed that he's alive, and that he isn't alone in all of this. That I'll help in any way that I can. That I want him here with us because it's never felt quite right when he isn't.

"It's Christmas. We should enjoy the day to our hearts' content," Haru says, leaning forward to examine the table with food.

"I approve!" exclaims Futaba. "Let everyone be merry to the max!"

"I'm the one who should be giving permission, you know," grumbles Sojiro, but I hardly hear what he's saying.

I wholeheartedly want my friends to enjoy their Christmas, their . . . our victory. But, watching them, I can't help the bitter thoughts. Am I really the only one here feeling like news such as this should at least dampen the mood a little? Am I the only one here who . . . cares at all?

It is then that I'm hit with the realization that . . . maybe I am. My friends may have sympathized and acknowledged the validity of Akechi's sacrifice when I asked them, even expressed hope that he would be willing to atone if he had survived. But they don't actually care about him; none of them do.

Maybe the thought shouldn't surprise me as much as it does. Maybe if I had paid more attention, hoped less, I would have known all along. But I didn't, and the thought hurts. It seethes into my heart that's been stomped on and ripped to pieces so many times over the last months that I'm not sure whether it ever healed properly.

What hurts even more is that I can't expect them to care; I can't make them, I can't even hold it against them that they don't because they have the right to feel this way. They deserve to be happy . . . even if I . . . even if he and I can't.

"Hell yeah!" Ryuji suddenly yells and jumps up, then pops a cracker. "Merry Christmas!"

I don't realize that I've gotten to my feet until I notice everyone staring at me.

". . . Rin?" Ann asks with worry in her voice.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to scare ya'," Ryuji says apologetically.

I shake my head.

> "No, I'm sorry . . . I need some fresh air."

"It's not your fault . . . I'm just a little tired . . ."

"You're leaving? I'll come along." Morgana hops off the table, abandoning the delicious-smelling food for me. "It's fine, you guys. I'll keep an eye on her. That battle tired her out more than she's letting on."

I'm grateful that he doesn't tell them the real reason for my gloomy mood, even if he must suspect it. Although now I'm drawing even more concerned looks.

"Take care of yourself, please," says Haru, and they all follow me with their gazes as I grab my bag and coat and leave the cafe. Sojiro looks the most worried . . . I promise myself that I'll be back before he has to close up shop.

"This is not about fresh air, is it?" Morgana says as I let him jump into the bag. "Where are we going, Rin?"

I hesitate. I'm not actually sure where I want to go . . . I just wanted to get out of there so as not to be surrounded by happiness and cheer because it all just made me feel like crying. For a second, I wonder if I could go to the station to see if they'd let me see him. But . . . even though I don't know the exact rules for visits like that, the idea doesn't strike me as realistic or attainable.

I wrap my arms around myself, letting the chilly winter breeze caress my face for a heartbeat . . . Then I spin and start making my way over to the subway. Suddenly, I know exactly where I'm going.

***

"Oh . . . it's this place," Morgana mumbles when we're already standing in front of it. The warm lights and colors try their best to soothe me, but they carry memories that make my heart ache. Except that I no longer wish to deny or shut them out.

"It was Akechi who brought you here first, wasn't it?" Morgana says in an uncharacteristically compassionate tone as I force myself to cross the threshold and enter the jazz club that I couldn't bring myself to return to, ever since Akechi's last invite.

"Oh, welcome," says the manager, lifting himself off the counter he was leaning on, then tipping his hat to me. I recall Akechi addressing him as Muhen. "Can I help you? This ain't the day for a young girl to spend alone at a place like this."

When I look around, I notice that there are only a few other people here today . . . Of course, it's Christmas Day. Well, if the club is open . . . ? I shove the 3000 yen over the counter. He shouldn't be complaining.

"Heh," he says, taking the money and counting it, then halts in his tracks to lean forward and make my face out better in the dim light. "Hold on . . . aren't ya' that girl Akechi-kun's brought here a couple of times?"

I hesitate, then nod. I haven't really spoken to him—he hasn't even introduced himself to me officially—but I already can't help but find him sympathetic.

"Ah yes . . . name's Muhen, by the way," he confirms what I believed to remember. "Nice to make your acquaintance. So, are you and Akechi-kun . . . ?" He doesn't finish the sentence . . . but he doesn't have to.

My first impulse is to tell him yes. I confessed to Akechi. He sacrificed himself for me . . . twice now, in Shido's palace and then when he turned himself in. But . . . in light of everything that happened and where he is now . . .

"It's . . . complicated."

> "I hope so . . ."

"Heh, I hope so too." Muhen-san gives me a playful wink that makes my doubt-ridden heart even heavier. "You seem like a nice girl and it was so rare to see Akechi-kun with another person. Hm. I haven't seen him in a while. I'm kind of worried about him," he says next. "Do me a favor. Next time ya' see him, tell him to come by again."

I nod. Even though I shouldn't be promising this, I nod anyway, and Muhen-san smiles. "Excellent. Hm . . . you know what?" He places my money on the counter and shoves it back over to me. "It's Christmas. If you really want to spend it here, and ya' promise to bring Akechi-kun next time, today's visit's on the house. Enjoy yourself, Merry Christmas." He waves toward the tables, and I'm so touched that I feel myself tearing up again. Recently, I feel like everything makes me want to cry.

". . . Thank you so much. Merry Christmas."

> "Oh thank you . . . Merry Christmas to you too."

Muhen-san smiles warmly and nods. He follows me with his eyes as I make my way over to the tables and sit down—not in the same spot where Akechi and I always sat but in the back, where I'm less visible from the other few tables that are occupied.

"What a kind man," Morgana says, and I nod.

". . . So, this is the place Akechi showed you, isn't it?" He speaks again after a few minutes of silence, broken only by the soft music and the quiet, idle chatter.

I nod again, staring at the small dance floor in the back. The memories are as vivid as they are vicious, clawing at my heart with the agonizing certainty called never again.

"Hm . . ." Morgana leaps up onto the table, and I'm worried Muhen-san will scold me for bringing a cat into the club when he comes to place a drink in front of me—on the house as well, as he insists—but he doesn't say anything.

When he's gone again, Morgana sits right in front of me. "I know that you miss Akechi, but the way things are now, it is for the best. Now he can contribute to dismantling the conspiracy he once enabled. Don't you think there would be a significant amount of satisfaction in that if he truly is trying to make amends?"

I shake my head, then nod. What Morgana is saying is true, but that's never been the question; that's not the reason I'm upset. Of course, things are the way they should be . . . if you look at the situation from a strictly objective perspective.

. . . What I feel and want because of reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with logic is a whole different story.

"What if I want things to be different?"

> "What if I'm not happy with this?"

Morgana shakes his head. "Rin . . . I know you're upset and heartbroken, but you have to accept the truth. In reality, it's not possible for everyone to be happy all the time. Besides the fact that it's the right thing to do—if . . . or even because you love him—you have to let him do what he wants, and what he wants is to atone. To help fix the mess he was partially responsible for. We should respect that, don't you think?"

Realizing that I haven't even looked at it this way yet, I nod. As I stir my drink, I suddenly feel incredibly selfish.

"I just wish someone besides me cared . . ."

> "It just didn't feel right to celebrate merrily . . ."

". . . I can understand that," Morgana admits after a short pause. "That's why I came with you. Well . . . I also wanted to keep an eye on you. I don't trust you when you're driven by strong emotions. You can get really reckless, you know?"

I can't resist a quiet laugh.

> "I want you to keep an eye on me forever."

"Don't ever stop worrying about me . . ."

Morgana's eyes widen and he turns his head. "Do you honestly think I would ever stop?" He scoffs. "No, you're stuck with me forever, young lady, and there's nothing you can do about that."

I laugh again and he joins in.

"With the others too," he says then. "They all agree. I know your probation will be lifted in spring but . . . y-you could . . . I mean . . ." He drags his front paws across the table. "See . . . now may not be the best time to bring this up but the others and I have been talking . . . to boss as well, about . . . you know . . ."

I listen up. I haven't even thought about the fact that my probation will be lifted when the school year ends. And technically, I'd have to go . . . home then.

An enormous lump suddenly forms in my throat . . . and this time it has nothing to do with Akechi. For the first time in forever, I think about what has been my home for over sixteen years of my life—about my parents, whom I barely saw outside of holidays and some weekends—and even about my nanny, who raised me more than my parents did, even though I haven't seen her since I turned fourteen . . . Her stories and our games, which enlivened the spacious house where I spent my childhood, and yet it never stopped feeling too empty, too unlived in, to truly be a home.

All the house ever did was fan an insatiable desire to use all that space, to welcome people into its empty halls, and to fill the unused rooms with joy and laughter. But that never happened, no matter how many times I dreamed about it.

The only time I ever felt like I was welcoming anyone in a space that may not have been as big as my parents' house—and not even technically my own—was each time I welcomed a new member to the Phantom Thieves. Not into a lavish house, but into my heart, and at some point I realized that that was what I really wanted, back then and now. It never crossed my mind before, but suddenly . . . I look back at Morgana and wonder if there could be a way for me to . . . stay here? Stay . . . at home?

"W-Well!" Morgana clears his throat. "None of this is final anyway; there's plenty of time, and . . . I don't think you have to worry about that at the moment. I'm just saying . . . well . . . don't be surprised if we ever . . . you know . . ."

I suddenly realize that maybe he was trying to distract me, and warmth rises in my chest. I scratch his head affectionately, and Morgana huffs, trying his hardest to keep his composure.

I sip my drink and suddenly realize that my heart feels less heavy. I haven't forgotten my sorrow or my longing but Morgana's words resonate within me and I scold myself for being so pessimistic all of a sudden. I am the one who hopes; I sip my drink angrily. I will never let myself abandon hope again. Last time it happened, I paid for it bitterly, and so did Akechi.

Now is not the time to lose hope. Not now that I've found out that he's alive and willing to atone. I have to let him . . . I smile into my drink. And one day, I will see him again. When that happens . . . I let my mind drift up into the clouds and my smile widens. Things will be different. Things will be . . . new. Better than they've ever been.

It is the chime of my phone that jolts me out of the delightfully fluffy clouds my imagination is painting.

ANN: Hey Rin, are you there? Is everything okay?

> You've been gone for over an hour, we're worried about you.

RYUJI: You're not mad at us, are you?

FUTABA: You know I could track you if I really wanted . . .

MAKOTO: Futaba . . .

FUTABA: What? I was just offering.

> In case she doesn't respond . . .

YUSUKE: Ann, do you mind if I take the last cheese puffs with me to eat tomorrow?

RYUJI: Dude, why're you asking that in the chat?

> You could just talk to her, we're in the same room . . .

HARU: Yusuke's request aside, we saved you some food if you're still hungry, Rin.

> You didn't have any dinner, did you?

When I put my phone down to exchange a look with Morgana, I'm smiling widely.

"Idiots . . ." Morgana mumbles, and my grin widens even more.

Don't ever change, guys . . . I think as I raise my phone again, to type a response. Not that part of yourselves, anyway. Suddenly, I hope with all my heart that whatever Morgana was hinting at earlier could become reality. Nothing fills me with more terror than the thought of losing all of my friends.

RIN: Thank you for worrying but I'm fine.

RYUJI: OH!! There she is!

MAKOTO: Where are you? Did something happen?

ANN: We didn't do anything wrong, did we . . . ?

HARU: Please come home soon, boss is worried too.

RIN: Nothing happened! You didn't do anything wrong.

> I hope you had an amazing party anyway.

> I didn't want to ruin it with my bad mood, that's why I left.

RYUJI: Huh?? Why would you be in a bad mood on Christmas??

ANN: . . .

FUTABA: We thought you'd be extra happy though.

> Considering you were the one who was so upset about Akechi . . .

HARU: Yes, we thought it would mean a lot to you since you cared about him so much.

ANN: This . . . IS about Akechi, isn't it?

I put my phone down again and sigh, suddenly feeling incredibly pitiful. My friends are right, but . . . What I'm feeling isn't rational, and yet, I don't want to be pressured into feeling ashamed for it.

RIN: I'm alright now.

> I'll be home soon. Please tell Sojiro to not worry.

ANN: Rin . . .

RYUJI: A'ight, we'll tell him.

RIN: I'm sorry for making you all worry . . .

HARU: You don't have to apologize for your feelings . . .

FUTABA: Ya!

> Also, don't worry about ruining our party. We had lots of fun!

> Ryuji ate more cream puffs than I thought physically possible . . .

RYUJI: Hey!!

YUSUKE: And although we did miss you, we thought you wouldn't want us to let that ruin the mood.

ANN: But we DID miss you!!

RIN: I miss you guys too . . .

RYUJI: Then come!! home!!

MAKOTO: Boss says he will wait to close up shop until you return.

> So please do make it as quick as you can.

ANN: Yeah, before Yusuke and Ryuji eat all the food we saved for YOU!

I close the chat, still smiling, and stand up.

"Hurry, Rin!" Morgana leaps into my bag. "Before there won't be any food left!"

I laugh quietly as I make my way out of the jazz club, not without wishing Muhen-san a Merry Christmas again and thanking him for treating me.

When I step out into the chilly winter breeze, I can't help but look back at the warmly lit entrance. "Merry Christmas," I whisper so quietly that even Morgana doesn't hear it. I imagine the words being carried away by the wind . . . to wherever he is. And against all odds, I hope the thought will at least cross his mind that I'm thinking about him. Then I turn, trying to walk with the same determination that he did . . . finally back home.

Sure, in an ideal reality, things would be different, I think as I board the subway.

In an ideal reality, Akechi would have never committed any crimes to turn himself in or atone for.

In an ideal reality, he would be here with me, with us. One of us, the way I always wanted. And the two of us would be . . .

I let my mind drift, entertaining the thought of the ideal "what if?" that would never be real but that we sometimes long for in our hearts simply because it is in our nature as humans to long for unattainable things. Especially on days such as Christmas . . . who doesn't like to dream of miracles?

What I couldn't have known was that this "ideal" soon wouldn't be quite as unattainable as I thought . . . and that there was never a more dangerous time for something as mundane as making wishes.