... In which I, on the first day of Shujin's school festival, decide to leave early and find myself face to face with Goro Akechi, doing the same. I haven't seen him in months but suddenly he's here again, offering a convenient means to get home. Is this finally the reunion I've been waiting for?

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

I linger for a moment longer, watching my friends return to the stalls. Although the first day of the festival is almost over, many visitors are still enjoying themselves, including my friends. Yusuke is gesturing now; he seems to want to head off on his own.

"They're being careless," says Morgana from the depths of my bag. "We should all go home and rest up . . . well, at least you're listening to me."

I nod as I begin strolling toward the school gate. I don't feel like spending more time at the festival, as my friends have decided to. It's been a long day, so I've excused myself to head home. I'm tired and honestly quite anxious about what will happen tomorrow . . . with Akechi.

When my friends first suggested we invite him to the festival, I was elated at the prospect of seeing him again. Because he certainly kept his word—ever since our trip to Inokashira Park in September, I haven't seen or even spoken to him once.

So much has happened that occupied me otherwise—first and foremost the incident with Okumura and our public fall from grace—and although it kept me distracted, I could never bring myself to forget him or give up hope that we'll meet again.

Although I feel a little torn about my friends' plan to essentially use Akechi for information, I can't deny that, besides my personal feelings, there isn't much reason to be against the idea. So, I haven't protested. Besides, it is a chance to see him again. I'm not passing that up. Earlier today hardly counts.

I flinch, recalling what happened at the table with the takoyaki. I didn't expect Akechi to show up today already, and it was not even remotely the kind of reunion I had pictured; I didn't even get to speak to him. Against my will, I'm still picturing his tense face and feeling the barely controllable urge to run after him when he left—even if only to have a proper conversation for the first time in almost two months.

I'll talk to him tomorrow, I promise myself. Although . . . I sigh and clutch my bag tighter. Something tells me that things won't go quite as planned tomorrow, considering this is . . . Akechi we're talking about. Whatever he does, I know him well enough to have no doubt it will end up surprising us all. It's . . . what he does.

I'm in the process of asking myself whether that's a good or bad thing and whether I should maybe rethink my initial impulse of calling it good when something wet hits my forehead. I startle just as another drop follows, then instinctively raise my hand to shield my face from the sudden rain.

"Oh," says Morgana. "Just what we needed. Did you bring an umbrella?"

I shake my head, trying to shove aside the memories the rain evokes. Ever since that trip to the park, I seem to have developed an odd association between Akechi and rain that has plagued me since that day.

Instead of Akechi, I force myself to mourn the absence of my umbrella that I left behind, confident that I could borrow someone else's if push came to shove. At least the rain remains light. Briefly, I wonder why it isn't evoking that familiar temptation of wanting to skip through the puddles as I slip out the gate. Honestly, I don't feel like relishing it right now. I feel like running to the subway station or maybe finding a quiet cafe or something to wait and see if it will pass. Maybe I can read that book I borrowed from the library yesterday . . .

For a few moments, I stand there, frustrated with how, despite it not getting heavier, the rain is inconveniently wetting my glasses. I squint and take a step forward, away from the gate, then lift my hand to remove them. And as soon as I can see again, I see . . . that I'm not as alone as I thought.

A figure kneels on the other side of the street. He quickly stands and fiddles with something at the back of a parking motorbike. In his gloved hand flashes a silver key. I must've been staring because, as if he sensed me, the figure turns . . . and I'm speechless yet again.

"Akechi?!" hisses Morgana, remembering just in time to keep his voice down. My mouth opens and part of me wants to yell the name out myself, with all the pent-up emotions I can no longer ignore now.

"Oh . . . it's you." Akechi straightens and flashes me that smile I've missed seeing so much. "Heading home already? Where are your friends?"

I nod and shove my glasses into the side pocket of my bag. I can't help but notice how matter-of-fact he sounds—as though we aren't having our very first one-on-one conversation in months, as if being apart turned us into total strangers once again. I feel an odd pang in my heart at the thought, and it takes me a few seconds to finally scrape together enough sense to speak in coherent sentences.

"I am . . . but how are you doing?"

"Yes. The others wanted to stay a little longer."

> "Actually, I'm just following you."

"No, you're not," says Akechi without missing a beat and with so much confidence that I almost break into laughter. "And even if you were, you can hardly follow me back to my apartment." He steps around the motorbike and produces a helmet. "I'm calling it a day; I have to prepare for tomorrow, after all."

I can't put my finger on it, but something in his expression shifts when he says that. I nod absentmindedly, staring at the black helmet in his hand and wondering if I've gotten rusty at reading him.

"Let's just get out of here," Morgana whispers and chirms in my bag, yet I don't react. Akechi's expression is content, and, despite the rain, he doesn't look disheveled or inconvenienced. Sometimes I really do wonder how he does that.

He looks like he's ready to leave—to run away from me again—and part of me wants to grab his arm and physically hold him back, ask him what he's been up to, and whether he'll still be busy after the festival. For him, I'd even abandon my plans of heading home—if Akechi were willing, I'd follow him right back in to explore the stalls together. Honestly, I'm ready to do just about anything to be alone with him for a little longer.

Only as I stand across from him now does it hit me just how much I've truly missed him. I've been so occupied with other things that he took a backseat in my mind, but it dawns on me that the period of silence didn't affect my feelings for him in the slightest. In fact, it's all rushing back to me now, as if it had been yesterday that I told him I'd wait for him.

"It's good to see you again."

> "I missed you."

Akechi gives me an almost pitiful look before it vanishes and the corner of his mouth twitches up. "It seems as though you're determined to ignore the warning I gave last time. Fine, then—have it your way." He bows and pulls out a sturdy leather jacket, then places the helmet on the bike's seat to slip into it.

"What warning?" Morgana churns in my bag, but I'm occupied, taking in the vehicle in front of me properly for the first time. If it isn't new, he's done a great job at keeping it a secret so far.

> ". . . That yours?"

"I didn't know you had one of these..."

Akechi halts, his hand still on the jacket's zipper. "Surprised?" is all he says, with yet another smirk, and I can't help but fight a smile at his exceptionally satisfied tone.

"It's new, actually," he confirms my suspicion and picks the helmet back up. "I've had a license for a while but only got around to buying one a few weeks ago. It's quite useful to get around, especially for longer distances . . . and weather like this, I suppose. I'm quite glad I chose it instead of coming here by bicycle today."

I glance it over once more, and even though I've never been particularly interested in vehicles, even I have to admit it's a nice bike. It does look new, and although it's plainer than I'd have expected Akechi to go for—not that I ever honestly expected him to be a motorbike type before. Although, looking back, I realize that it suits him better than I initially thought, with its sleek black color and design. It appears quite high-end, too.

"We should really get going, Rin. There's no point in standing and listening to this guy now. We'll be doing enough of that tomorrow." Morgana's voice is still quiet, but there's an urgency in it now that wasn't there before.

But I don't want to leave! I stare up at Akechi, silently begging him to give me an excuse to stay. But now that I am counting on his unpredictability, hoping for him to pull one of his tricks that I've missed much more than I realized . . . he does nothing. Say something! I want to yell. Surprise me! Challenge me! Stop acting like you've lost interest in that. Don't break my heart all over again!

His words come to mind—the words I have barely been able to stop thinking about ever since he uttered them: Why are you holding that absurdly big heart of yours out to me like we both don't know that I'm going to break it? Then and there, I realize that I refused to fully believe that he would actually do that so far.

Akechi is still silent; I don't allow myself to assume he's waiting for me to leave. But there is something in his eyes that I could have sworn wasn't there before. I can't pinpoint it exactly, but it's making my heart heavy with sorrow.

A few moments later, I finally cast my eyes down and turn. I hate that my heart feels like he's stabbed a knife into it, and for once, I'm grateful for the rain. If I start crying somewhere along the way, at least nobody will notice.

Then I stop abruptly. As much as I should be walking away, haven't I been begging the universe for a chance to get him alone just a few minutes ago? Since when am I that easily deterred, anyway?

"What's the holdup?" asks Morgana, but I ignore him and turn properly. Then an engine roars next to me, and I cry out, nearly tripping back. I see immediately that Akechi's all set. He halts the motorbike right next to me; the visor of his helmet is open.

"Oh, what does he still—!?"

"Before you leave on foot in this weather—" Akechi cuts Morgana off—although I don't think he heard his quiet voice against the engine of his bike. "I just had a fun little idea: what say you join me? I don't have a second helmet, but Leblanc isn't so far from here. It'd be a mere minor detour for me . . . and much faster for you." He removes one hand from the grip and extends it for an invitation.

I catch sight of a smirk through his open visor and almost break into hysterical laughter, wondering if he made me believe he was going to let me walk away on purpose. As I stare at his hand, a familiar exhilarated rush fills me—it is the same hand he held out to me all those months ago, at the TV station.

I can't say that 'riding a motorcycle' was something I ever considered doing with Akechi, but suddenly it seems like the most romantic thing in the world. Morgana in my bag stirs; I can hear his silent 'don't do it' but I'm not in the headspace to heed any warnings—even less the unspoken kind.

> "Finally! I was waiting for you to offer."

"I'd love to . . ."

I think Morgana may actually be speechless as I take Akechi's extended hand without hesitation. Next thing I know, I'm sitting behind him, relishing the fact that I suddenly have an excuse to wrap my arms around him.

"Hah . . ." As soon as I'm in place, Akechi raises a hand to close his visor, then restarts the engine. ". . . You better hold on."

Before I can process his words, he's already hitting the throttle, and we accelerate rapidly. I press my face into the back of his jacket and lock my arms tightly around his upper body, breathing in the warm scent of leather and that cologne he seems to still be using. In that moment, my heart overflows with joy.

Morgana yells something in the bag I'm still tightly clutching but I don't quite understand what he's saying. The wind is tousling my hair, but when I dare look up, I realize that we aren't even going that fast. Akechi's driving down the familiar road, away from Shujin, and I allow myself to relax.

In retrospect, I realize that even though Akechi seems quite sure of where he's going, it takes quite a while longer to get to Leblanc than it should have. But as far as I'm concerned, it couldn't have taken long enough.

He soon drives out onto a street where he can go faster. Maybe I should be scared, considering I'm not wearing a helmet and we're going at the speed of a car, but I'm not. I can only grip his jacket tighter, feeling my heart swell with joy and a wide grin spread across my face, painted by the wind in my hair and the rush of adrenaline.

I could get used to this, I think, and lean my cheek on his back to watch Tokyo's stores and coffee shops fly by in a colorful blur. Just then, Akechi throttles the speed and takes a turn. Immediately, I recognize the street, and for some odd reason, I feel disappointed at the familiar sight of Leblanc.

Akechi halts the vehicle directly in front of the entrance, and it takes me a couple of seconds to mentally catch up with how I now have to release him, get off, and go back inside. Just then, Akechi takes his helmet off. "Did you fall asleep back there?" he asks affectionately, glimpsing over his shoulder as though to check, and my face immediately flushes again when I realize I'm still technically hugging him.

I quickly let go and climb off the motorbike, but nearly trip from suddenly having to walk again. Akechi catches my hand before I can fall. "Told you it'd be faster." He smirks, and for a second, I feel like we're back to the way we were before he left. "Say, you did end up quite enjoying yourself, didn't you?"

I blink and attempt to prevent the heat from reaching my ears. He's still holding my hand and would let the earth swallow me before I would pull away.

"I can tell because you're smiling quite brightly," he says, and only then do I notice that the grin I picked up somewhere along the way still hasn't disappeared. I don't make an effort to chase it.

"Yeah . . . thank you."

"Thanks! See you tomorrow."

> "So much that I'd love to do this again, sometime."

"Hah . . . well, who knows, maybe we'll get around to it." I hate that I can't bring myself to fully believe he is making a sincere offer. "Anyway, you're quite welcome. I've come to enjoy riding this thing quite a lot myself, so I understand how you feel." He smiles. "I will see you tomorrow, then . . ." He shifts, and there's that odd sorrow in his eyes again—only for a moment, though. "It will be quite interesting."

I don't think it's just that I'm rusty at reading his expressions—the way Akechi looks at me then reminds me that I've always felt like I'll never fully understand him. I'm staring, most likely too apparently, but even so, I can't figure out for the life of me what he's thinking or feeling. It's both frustrating and oh-so intriguing at the same time.

I do my best to keep holding his almost intimidatingly intense gaze in silence. He lifts my hand, which is still in his, and my breath hitches when it hits me that he might finally kiss it again . . . but then he releases me without another word.

My heart inevitably plummets, even though my head is screaming that it's probably for the best. I am way too attached to him as is—the time spent apart most certainly did not help with that. But now is really not a good time to start indulging in the feelings I have developed and kept in the depths of my heart for him, not with the situation the Phantom Thieves are currently facing. I can't afford any distractions, and there has never been a bigger distraction than Goro Akechi.

"Well then . . . good night." He flashes me another smile. "See you tomorrow." With that, he dons his helmet and starts up the engine.

I can't help but look after him as he veers around the corner and out of sight. My heart is racing, and I still feel the aftertaste of adrenaline, even though my feet are on solid ground.

"Oh, this is not good," Morgana says suddenly, and I startle. "He's up to something . . . I know you used to have a crush on this guy, but now's not the time to fall back into that. Hey, Rin, are you listening?"

I'm not . . . not really. Morgana wouldn't understand the familiar feeling that creeps up in my chest the same way it always used to—the feeling that makes me want to drop all caution and pursue him, as he is now. I don't care what we do; I never have. All I feel at the prospect of spending time with him is that rush. Like adrenaline, but . . . I hesitate, warmer, more mellow, but more aggressive, consuming at the same time.

. . . It's like he never left.

Or maybe that's what I want. As much as I try to not overthink that thought, I can't help it. It's been months since Akechi and I stopped seeing each other, but I still want the same things I wanted back in the summer when we were practically dating—for him to do what he always does: give me an experience. Show me something new, something exciting . . . potentially decimate me at said exciting thing in the process. I don't ever want it to stop—this thing that we had growing between us that he stifled but didn't quite kill. It's almost frightening how strong the sudden urge to awaken it again is.

I'm only briefly taken aback by the fact that a single reunion was enough to remind me of why I fell in love with him. I don't even try to call it anything else anymore—if today has shown anything, it's that my feelings for him are not just a passing or superficial crush that will go away again with time. This thought does finally evoke a tinge of fear, yet I do not allow it to take root.

Really, I should not be surprised. This is the man who made me feel things I have never felt before. Who made me—someone who has never cared much about winning or challenges before—invested in competing with him. Perhaps it's in the way it seems to mean so much to him, or there's just something about the thought of proving to him that I can live up to the expectations he seems to have of me.

I can still not look away from the street where he disappeared. This is the man who manages to turn even the most mundane activity into an adventure. Who has never ceased to surprise me yet. Whose company is stimulating, unlike that of any other. Even when we disagree . . . perhaps even more so in those cases. I don't know. All I know is that he's . . . intriguing in an unprecedented way.

I wonder if he feels the same—if that is what he means when he keeps saying this to me. Warmth rises in me at the thought that the fascination with me he keeps expressing might be like the one I'm feeling . . . for him. Whatever it is that we were . . . and still are now—whether we were ever truly dating or just friends—it seems to matter less and less. All that suddenly matters is that I never, ever want it to end. Of that, I am more certain than I've ever been.

"Hey! Quit spacing out; what are you standing around here for?" I flinch when Morgana practically yells in my ear. "Did you hear a word I said? I mean that we cannot rely on our plan to work flawlessly." He heaves his upper body out of the bag and digs his claws into my shoulder. "He's planning something, and if we've got the right impression of him, he's probably not going to let us use him for information that easily. I hope you can keep your feelings under control."

I nod absentmindedly, even though I've just come to the realization that I have absolutely no control over my feelings for Akechi. Morgana is right, though; what he is saying is sensible, based on sound logic and our own observations. But what I'm feeling is making listening to logic harder than I'd like it to be.

"Hey . . . was that a man on a motorcycle just now?" Sojiro greets me as soon as I walk into Leblanc. Something about the way he's smirking is only increasing the blush, which I still haven't quite lost.

"You don't need to worry about him."

> "He's just . . . one of my friends."

"I didn't know any of them had a motorcycle!" Sojiro sounds almost offended at the prospect of me withholding such crucial information.

I smile back and bid him good night, then head to my room. It's decently late, and we have a big day coming tomorrow. I decide to head to bed immediately, although I find it difficult to fall asleep. Tomorrow . . . I stare at the ceiling and try not to picture myself sitting behind Akechi on that motorbike again, breathing the leather of his jacket with the wind tousling my hair. The way it felt when he was holding my hand . . . for a moment longer than he had to. Maybe I was wrong; I smile. Maybe it was the kind of reunion I was hoping for after all.

Then again, tomorrow could change everything . . . I think as my eyelids grow heavy.

. . . Little did I know just how much it would.