... In which I invite Akechi out to the aquarium again, to create more fond memories for him to associate with the place. Along the way, we exchange more stories and I grapple with the reality that we are . . . together now—the way we used to be, but so much more.

. . . T-18 days

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

The longer I ponder it, the more I'm convinced that Akechi's right—I am insatiable. For him, for us, for the life that I can't help imagining we might have ahead of us, despite all the dread that he can't seem to cease warning me about. We have 19 more days until Maruki acts, and so I'm just . . . relishing.

Yesterday, Ryuji needed me just as Ann did the day before, but today . . . Immediately after school, when I see that no one seems to have anything urgent to do, I make my way over to Kichijoji and find Akechi in the place where he always used to be.

"Oh, it's you," he says when I come to a halt in front of him, looking down at me as though we're still as foreign to each other as we used to be when we spoke here last time. "Don't you have anything better to do than talking to me? We have to do something about Maruki. Otherwise, the world is his to shape as he pleases. And I'd hate to see that happen. So stop wasting time and get yourself ready."

For one moment, I consider pouting a little about how he is speaking so coldly. But . . . I take one step closer, staring up at him over the top of my glasses. Otherwise, the world is his to shape as he pleases. And I'd hate to see that happen . . . I smile.

"So, you do care about what happens to the world."

> "Did you just say you care about the world?"

"That is not the—!" Akechi cuts himself off, glaring at me. "I care about knowing what it is that you came here for," he says sourly, and I giggle. "Our bond's not going to deepen any further, you know that."

I nod without taking my eyes off him once. Memories flash in my mind of his face hovering above me, of the way his mouth tasted and his hand felt between . . .

I force myself to swallow the images down before they compel me to embarrass myself in public, yet I might be looking up at him more bashfully than I ever have.

> "Let's hang out."

"Let's head to the Metaverse."

"I haven't decided yet."

"Are you serious? At a time like this?" Akechi stares at me skeptically, then catches onto my mood and smirks. "Well . . . I suppose I can hardly refuse you anymore. What's the matter? Have you suddenly grown shy or something?"

My mouth drops open when he steps forward, placing a finger under my chin and raising my head to look me straight in the eyes. "I'm not done with you, y'know?" he remarks casually, and I momentarily forget how to exhale.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" Morgana chimes in, and Akechi snickers.

"Nothing that's any of your concern," he says, releasing me and crossing his arms. "Oh, alright then. Do keep in mind that I won't let you slack off because of all this, though."

"I won't slack off."

> "Don't worry about it."

I clench my hands together, trying to steady my voice. If he keeps doing this, I will . . .

"Fine," Akechi says, still smirking. "I suppose there is time for a little distraction."

I stare up at him, trying to finally make up my mind about why I came to see him. All I know is that I want to spend time together—while we still can, an irksome voice in my head whispers, but I ignore it. I have a special bond with Akechi . . . and I'm going to make use of that.

"So what'll it be? Are you going to spend time with Akechi?" Morgana asks.

"Isn't that what she just said?" he interjects before I can reply. "I suppose you don't wish to stay and bear witness . . ."

"Most certainly not," Morgana grumbles. "I'll be off now. And you, Rin, be careful."

He hops out of my bag, and I stifle another laugh. I'm so done being careful at this point.

"It was she who insisted on spending time with me in the first place," Akechi says toward Morgana, who merely gives us one final side-eye before vanishing. "So . . ." As soon as Akechi turns back to me, his smirk is back. "Whatever could it be that she had in mind?"

I breathe in, then out again, rubbing my hands together before stuffing them back into my pockets. As I take him in, the way he stands there with his arms crossed, looking at me like he knows exactly what I'm thinking, I am suddenly hit with the realization that we're . . . free. Dr. Maruki aside, we can . . . do anything we want. There's no judgment, no secret plots, no urgency . . . I clench my fists tighter. We can . . . go out again the way we used to. Be . . . normal? At least have a taste of it.

A million possibilities cluster in my mind at once, and I draw in another breath, trying to control the sudden spinning of my head. We could . . .

"Let's go hang out."

"Let's go to my room."

> "Let's make memories . . ."

"That's a fascinating way to put it." His smirk grows wider. "Is this your way of delegating the choice to me?"

I nod, but he merely shakes his head, saying, "I have no preference. This is one choice that I don't mind if you make," he adds with a smirk and I place my hand against my chin, pondering. But . . . something does come to mind.

"Let's do something we've never done before."

> "Let's do some of the things we used to do."

"Ha." Akechi uncrosses his arms. "Like what?"

I put my hands on my hips, giving him the boldest expression I can muster without crumbling under his unreadable stare. It still evokes far too many fresh images of moments that I shouldn't be recalling right now. Then again, I've hardly been able to stop thinking about that night. I glimpse at his left hand and wonder if it's still bandaged under the glove.

"What if . . . ?" I raise my hands, smirking. "You still owe me a pool game against your dominant hand."

Akechi laughs. "If we do that, I will wipe the floor with you. No holding back."

"Don't even think about holding back!" I pout in order to counteract the blush that creeps into my cheeks, although I have a feeling he sees it anyway. "We could also go back to that arcade."

"You want to be hustled that badly, huh?"

"Maybe . . ."

He laughs more. "Oh, why are you such a masochist?"

I have to muster all my remaining composure so as not to break into hysterical laughter myself. "For something more relaxed, we could also go to the jazz club or the aquarium," I suggest instead.

"Oh, not that place again." Despite his words, Akechi gives me a bemused look. "I have no idea why I ever took you there, honestly."

I let my mind drift back to that day that feels like it belonged to another life. His face tinted in the gentle blue light, and his hand on the glass of the tank, as he . . . Only then does a memory resurface about something he revealed there that . . . I force myself to not bring up that story he told me—was that the first time I've ever seen his facade crack? It was the place of my first . . . confession to him, it suddenly flashes in my mind. If that embrace and my following words to Ohya weren't a confession, I don't know what would be.

Instead of asking further, I smile—more bashfully than I have in a while. "Take me to dance in the rain again," I whisper the least attainable of my wishes, and he snorts.

"It's January."

"Maybe not now, but . . . someday," I say with conviction, and his smirk falls.

"I still can't believe you got me to do that back then," Akechi says almost wistfully. "That's what you want, huh? In the rain . . . only to dance?"

My mouth snaps shut, and I abandon all hopes of hiding my growing blush. He wouldn't actually dare to . . .

"Well, then, have you made up your mind?" he asks, and I stuff my hands back into my pockets, racking my brain. There are so many things I want to do with him, and even though we only have time for one today, I take comfort in knowing that today is just the beginning.

"Let's play pool."

"How about the jazz club?"

> "I'd love to go back to the aquarium."

"Let's go back to the arcade."

"We could dance . . . somewhere else."

"Oh, are you kidding me?" Akechi rolls his eyes, but I catch the smirk that dashes over his face. "Why would you choose that, of all places, to revisit?"

I smirk back at him, thinking that it's only fair to go back to the place of my first confession for our first proper date after making it official. It's a little poetic, if nothing else.

"You don't remember what happened there?"

> ". . . I'll tell you when we get there."

At the last moment, I recall that he might dismiss the idea if I told him my true motive. Akechi merely raises an eyebrow. "What is this? A crude attempt at manipulation?"

I stifle a laugh, then reach for his hand.

"My intentions are innocent."

> "You don't have to say yes."

"If you want to go somewhere else, just say it."

Akechi gives me a long look, then retracts his hand from mine. "I'm going to indulge you for the sake of satisfying my curiosity," he says frigidly, and my face lights up. As soon as he notices, his scowl deepens. "But if this is some kind of trick—you know what's on the line here, yeah?"

All the precious, fleeting, fragile bits of his trust that I've managed to earn through the work I've done, I think, and let my smile soften. Then I nod, as I hope, reassuringly.

Akechi gives me one last raised eyebrow, then sighs and surprises me by . . . extending his arm for me. "Oh, don't give me that look." He snickers when my eyes widen. "Don't act like, in your mind, you haven't been begging me to do this again the whole time."

I smile, gingerly lifting my hand and looping it through his. Walking like this, I'm hit with an unprecedented wave of wistfulness, and I tighten my hold. It's not sad anymore, I tell myself over and over. It's . . . more real than it's ever been.

***

The trip to Shinagawa is shorter than I remember, especially because I don't have to spend an eternity searching for the aquarium this time. After we've paid for our tickets and I'm finally standing back in the soft blue light, surrounded by tranquil idle movement and . . . not one single other visitor in sight, I'm hit by a proper wave of nostalgia.

"Well?" Akechi crosses his arms, shifting his gaze from me to the tank behind me. "What was it that you wanted to come here for so badly?"

"I like the memories here."

"It's a nice place."

> ". . . The fish are beautiful, aren't they?"

I smile, taking one step closer. Akechi merely raises an eyebrow. "That's what you dragged me out here to tell me?"

I pout, yet before I can grasp his hand, he pulls his own away. "The fish are very beautiful," he mocks. "Yet that does not mean I will let you engage in another semi-public display of affection if that was your intent." In reply, I only stifle another laugh and fold my hands behind my back. He raises one corner of his mouth at me. "Are you trying to tell me something? Be direct, if that's the case."

I blow out a breath, looking at him over the top of my glasses. Then I gather all my courage and . . . give him a wink. Akechi bursts out laughing. "Very direct indeed," he sneers. "If your aim was to test whether you could make me lose my self-restraint again, you're out of luck. I've since learned what I'm dealing with."

I sigh theatrically, then spin in a circle where I stand, taking in the pretty sparks and lights reflected by the tanks. I didn't really bring him here with any intention besides reminding him of the way this place brought us closer at the time, but . . .

> "But that was fun . . ."

"Then how about we just enjoy ourselves?"

"Perhaps it was," he says with an unexpectedly soft smile. "But as I told you, our bond won't grow any deeper. You could instead bring someone here whose actually will."

I halt in front of him, putting my hands on my hips.

> "I want to spend time with you."

"Stop trying to deter me from seeing you."

"Of course." He steps past me, staring up into where a school of fish passes us by in the tank overhead with an unreadable expression.

I join him, racking my brain for anything else to say. I want to ask him how he's doing, whether his hand has healed some, and whether he's still hurting . . . Whether he'll ever let me help him face his pain. But this strikes me as a conversation to have in a more private setting.

As I stand there, staring at his profile in the soft blue glow, I recall what he told me back when we first came here. The first time I've ever seen him . . .

> "Was the other girl you brought here your last date?"

"Did you tell me the full story about that girl last time?"

"Oh no." Akechi turns to face me and snickers. "I can't believe you still remember that story. But that was back in middle school. It was . . ." He shakes his head, and I feel him tense up. Then he sighs. "I didn't even like this girl that much. To be frank, I don't remember her name or appearance anymore."

All his words do is stir my curiosity. I slide my hand into his, entwining our fingers, and look up at him with as much sincerity as I can muster.

"So there was someone after her?"

> "Was there ever someone you do remember?"

Akechi shoots me an almost outraged glare. "There was," he then says, surprising me. In retrospect, I don't even know why I was so surprised. I suppose I assumed that he was too busy for dates, especially after he started working for Shido. And he was . . . fifteen when he did that. I swallow hard.

Presumably noticing my curious expression, Akechi rolls his eyes. "Why do you care so much about these old stories? You have no need to be jealous," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting to make a sour smile. It only lasts for a second, then his face becomes as grave as stone. "She is no longer . . . around for anyone to envy."

It takes one moment for the full truth of his words to sink in, and when it does, it feels like a slap in the face. All this time, I've assumed that his more or less irrational fear of hurting me was merely a byproduct of his inability to see his own goodness, but what if . . . My stomach churns, and I tighten my grip on his hand. What if it goes deeper?

"You look interested in that," Akechi observes, and I nod. "Why are you so eager to hear about all the horrible shit I've done if you want to keep believing that I'm "kind" and "selfless"?" He mocks, and I make a face.

"Your past doesn't define your future."

> "People can change."

"People can change," he repeats. "And I can only be me. Didn't I tell you that before?"

All I do is tighten my grip on his hand, and he shrugs. "You know what? Maybe you should hear this story. Maybe then you'll finally stop telling me how "good" I am."

Before I can reply, Akechi releases my hand and turns to make certain that we're still alone. When the only other visitor—an elderly woman at the far back—has vanished out of sight, he turns to face me, crossing his arms. "Several mental shutdowns after Wakaba's, there ought to be a new target—yet President Kikuchi wasn't like the others because prior to his demise, Shido intended to use him to gain influence. He was a powerful rival of his—or should I say, he was what Shido wanted to be. And since he had a daughter my age, Shido instructed me to build a connection with Hoshi to get close to him."

I clench my jaw, suddenly sensing a sick feeling building in the depths of my gut. Part of me thinks I'm no longer so eager to hear how this story ends, and yet . . . I force myself to nod affirmatively. I'll confront any ugly truth that he could possibly give me. Didn't I tell him that?

"Despite my initial reservations, it was . . . nice. For a few months." Akechi hesitates. "For one summer . . . it was almost real. Sound familiar?"

I swallow hard, forcing myself to nod again.

"Well, except it was obviously never going to be." Suddenly, there's an almost suffocating gravity in his voice. "It was never meant to be real with you either. But you would just not stop."

> ". . . Was Hoshi the same?"

"Did Hoshi . . . do what I did?"

"Oh, no," Akechi says to my surprise. "With her, it was I who still reached for the stars. Deluded myself that we could somehow . . . rewrite ours." My jaw drops, and an icy hand clamps around my heart. "Because I could feel genuinely for someone. Because I wasn't lost yet, or something," he says contemptuously. "I told you about the lies I couldn't yet stop living, yeah?"

I can only stand and stare at him, straining to picture it—a time before he gave up on himself. Before he . . . First, I accepted that I was a villain, it rings in my head. Am I about to find out what prompted that acknowledgment?

"Shido found out, I suppose," Akechi continues. "That it wasn't all strictly business anymore. And so, he informed me that there had been a change of plans. Of . . . targets." The icy hand around my heart clamps tighter, yet Akechi doesn't wait for a reply. "The President did not have to die. After all, if he lost his daughter, he would certainly plummet into despair and not pose much of a threat anymore, yeah?"

I try to swallow down the sick feeling that gathers at the back of my throat now, yet it won't go away. My mind inadvertently runs back, and while I doubt that forming a connection with me was ever something that Shido required of him, he . . .

"I suppose I could have not done it." Akechi shrugs, yet he is also looking away, not meeting my gaze. "Insert the same shit I said back when we were talking about Wakaba if you want."

> "And yet, you killed her . . ."

"But . . . you went through with it."

"I killed her," he says in a blank voice. "And along with her, I killed the part of me that made me deceive myself. About what I'd done or who I had become." The way he speaks lowly, quietly, chills me to my bone. "There was no care or goodness . . . even less, there was love. Not for me. There was no going back. There was only forward. Only . . ." He pauses. "Sinking the ship that I had paid to enter by staining my hands with blood . . . and going down with it."

Then, I accepted that I was a goner, rings in my ears, and I can do nothing but stand there and stare, even if my inability to say anything shames me a little. But . . . whoever this girl was and whyever she had to end up the way she did . . . I can see that she meant a lot to him. Possibly more than anyone who came before her.

"Were your feelings mutual?"

> "Did she . . . love you?"

"I think so . . . As much as she could without ever learning the truth, I suppose," Akechi replies, and yet, in his eyes, I can see doubt.

Of course, he would assume that she'd reject him if she ever found out the whole truth. I try my best to give him an encouraging smile, yet then I suddenly wonder if he means more than his affiliation with Shido. If he might mean the truth about . . . himself. With her—with anyone who came before me—was he ever allowed to stop pretending?

"Oh, stop giving me that look. I was what I was," Akechi says blankly, and my heart contorts further. "Accepting that was a tinge more difficult than facing the lies that collapsed that first palace I told you about, yet ultimately, not so much. It was sickening," he hisses. "But it was also . . . liberating. Empowering, unlike anything else. No one could deny me the truth, yeah? No one could tell me to deny it. Not even the man who could tell me to kill the girl who meant more to me than anyone else."

I haven't been . . . scared of him in such a long time that it takes me a few seconds to determine why an aftertaste of this fear is surfacing now. It's his face . . . I grit my teeth. I haven't seen it so void of life since that interrogation room. But . . . I frown. Where could there even be a commonality between that moment and this one?

"The truth is not something to hide from," Akechi says in a low, chilling voice. "It's the only true liberation that exists independently of anyone else. There was no way back for me."

The truth . . . it sinks heavily into the pit of my stomach. It was the only shred of power he had in a life where he had nothing else. Where his every move was determined by someone else, where every breath of his had to be a lie, the only freedom he clung to was that of his . . . honesty. Until it once again deserted him, I think, recalling the lies that had re-entangled him by the time of our fight in the engine room.

And finally, I accepted that I was a fool . . . who had allowed himself to live in the exact way that he despised—in a lie.

"You see?" Akechi takes me in, and his face unexpectedly softens. "There was no way back for me then, and there still isn't," he says almost gently. "No matter what you will now say."

I look up at him, and find this smile coming to me more easily than the previous one.

> "But there is a way forward."

"There's a way forward, though."

Akechi stares at me with his mouth slightly agape, and my smile only widens. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asks, and I stifle laughter. Only then does it dawn on me that I'm so unaffected because I've long made up my mind about him.

"Nothing you can tell me about your past will change my opinion of you," I whisper, and he freezes. "Because I know you as you are now. No information about the past can change that."

Akechi gives me a long look. "So that's how deep your belief runs, eh? It's going to get you hurt someday." Before I can reply, he crosses his arms, raising his chin. "And now tell me—if it won't affect your opinion of me anyway, why are you so interested in this old story? It happened over two years ago."

I shrug, unsure how to ask about the glaring similarities to our own story, but Akechi seems to have read my mind again. "Let me guess," he says. "The thing you were going to ask is why I sought to get closer to you at the time, given the possibility it might end the same way?"

I nod, and he snorts. "Honestly, it didn't even cross my mind that I might become genuinely attached to you. I do not . . . unless someone is of a very particular disposition. And practically no one is, so pardon me for presuming that you wouldn't be either."

I smile, recalling what he said about why he cares for me.

"Let me guess . . . kind and honest and soft?"

> "Is . . . compassionate, sincere, and gentle?"

"How dare you?" He glares, and I laugh. "It wasn't meant to be that way again! But you were really obvious about your affiliation with the Phantom Thieves when we first met. Like . . . really obvious."

I snort, and he merely raises an eyebrow. "Making you want to spend more time with me just happened to be the best way to find out more. Y'know, even though Shido didn't tell me you were supposed to die until October . . . I had a feeling anyway. That it would end the same way. But at that point, it was already too late."

> "But it didn't end the same way!"

"But our ending was different."

"Only because you and your friends averted it!" Akechi hisses, and my smile falls. "But it . . . You weren't supposed to . . ." He groans, breaking off. Then he crosses his arms. "Somewhere along the lines, I realized that I fucked up because suddenly you were. And you just wouldn't leave me alone! How dare you?" he calls again, sounding so offended that I nearly break into laughter.

"You—" Akechi takes one step closer, grabbing my shoulders. "You're the literal bane of my existence," he presses out. "Because now . . . you will not cease telling me that we can rewrite our stars . . . Like it's not too late or something."

In reply, I only smirk.

> "We can."

"Because it's not."

"You—" Akechi releases my shoulders, yet before he can move away, I catch his hands in mine. To my surprise, he lets me. "Fine," he says after a pause. "Set yourself up for disappointment." When I don't budge, he releases me and pivots toward the tank behind us, rolling his eyes. "Why am I even still trying?"

I break into suppressed laughter, and he groans. Yet neither of us says anything else for a while. We stand side by side for what might have been a minute, watching the idle movements of the fish. Eventually, I raise my hand and intertwine it with his again, and he lets me.

"Alright," Akechi suddenly says, releasing my hand and turning toward me. "Now that I've told you all about my most prominent previous experience, it's your turn."

My eyes widen, yet he merely smirks. "What? Did you not expect to be questioned in turn? If at all, we're making it even."

"Well . . ." I shrug, clasping my hands behind my back and inadvertently attempting to hide in my scarf. I was hoping he wouldn't ask, honestly. "The thing is . . . I've been on . . . two dates in my life . . . in middle school," I admit. "Twice with the same boy. I don't even remember his name or why I agreed to go out with him. I think I just felt bad . . . He was borderline stalking me in school for weeks before I said yes."

"Nothing after that?" Akechi asks incredulously.

"No." I laugh. "I think there were always . . . a lot of people interested in me. I just never returned this interest."

"Ah, so you were always the Heroine," he says with a sour smirk and I scowl. "What? Were none of them good enough for you?" he asks before I can question his choice of word. "Or was it all those false images and expectations they must have had of you that turned you off?"

I raise my gaze, astonished. Because I tend to listen far more than I speak, especially in the past, people do often misunderstand me. But how does he know . . . "Did they idolize you?" Akechi teases. "Or . . . did they mistake you for someone who'd take control?" He extends a hand to pat my head and I make a mortified sound.

"N-No—"

"Let me guess," Akechi continues without losing his self-satisfied smirk. "If you had liked and dated any of them, even you would have told yourself that you could assume a leading role if it made them happy. If it was what they wanted . . . At the end of the day, it wasn't that much to ask, was it?"

"Stop . . ." I lift my hands and bury my burning face in my palms, yet Akechi merely laughs, showing not an ounce of mercy.

"Do at least your friends know?" he dares. "Or do they also think that you're—"

"Stop . . . !" I shove my glasses up to cover my eyes as well.

"Oh, no." Akechi lifts a hand to brush my bangs out of my face. When I catch a glimpse of his expression, it's the same kind of smirk he wore when he told me to work on my self-restraint. "You're not actually lying to them, are you? You should really tell them the truth." He snickers. "Lest they misunderstand."

"Ngh . . . You're such a prick sometimes!" I press out between clenched teeth, and Akechi breaks into proper laughter.

"Obviously," he drawls. "Because you're into that . . . Way more than you should be. If there's not at least a tiny bit of prick in there, you're not going to blush like that."

I bite down on my lip in order not to make a sound that should, under no circumstances, be made in public. "But I . . . I just want you to be yourself!" I plead instead, still without lifting my face out of my hands.

"Oh, believe me, I am myself," Akechi replies, still far more composed than he should be. "I just fine-tune some settings here and there to elicit specific reactions."

I can't say how much longer we spend in the aquarium after that, but at least he stops teasing me . . . for now—I know this very well. Not that he isn't right or anything . . . There's a part of me that dies in the most pleasant way imaginable whenever he acts like that . . . Not that I'd actually admit that.

***

Before I know it, it's already dinner time, and I promptly invite Akechi to join me in Leblanc. He fights me halfheartedly, then he actually caves, and neither Sojiro nor Morgana are surprised that I don't return alone.

"We're gonna see you regularly now, aren't we?" Sojiro remarks to Akechi when he puts our plates in front of us. "Like, more so than her other friends."

Akechi raises an eyebrow, and suddenly I'm wondering whether Sojiro, outside of Dr. Maruki's reality, even knows about us.

"We're dating."

> "He's my boyfriend."

I clarify, and Sojiro's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh, right . . . Wait, really?" He looks back and forth between the two of us. "When did . . . I don't remember you ever telling me about that!" he exclaims. "Yet I feel like I ought to know for some reason . . ."

"It started around New Year's," Akechi says, sipping his coffee. "You seem to have been so busy that it must've slipped your mind."

"Right, right . . ." On Sojiro's face, I still see lingering confusion. He doesn't remember Wakaba ever being here either, said Futaba. So, he must not have retained any memories from before my friends all broke out of their realities. That lingering feeling seems to be all that has remained . . .

"Wait, so . . ." I flinch when Sojiro suddenly appears in front of me, putting his hands on his hips. "You've been having a boyfriend for almost two weeks now, and you never even mention it to me? Am I getting that correctly?"

I blink up at him and, from the corner of my eye, see Akechi stifle laughter.

> "Do I need your permission?"

"I did, you just don't remember."

"Yeah, we were gonna keep it secret."

"Uh—no!" he exclaims and I suppress a snort. "No! No! I just . . . Oh, you're being responsible, right?" he asks with so much genuine concern that I can no longer help myself and break into laughter.

"No, she's quite the bad girl," Akechi says conversationally, and I gasp, almost falling off my chair.

"What—!" Sojiro exclaims.

"Hold on, what do you mean?" Morgana perks up for the first time, raising his head from where he lies sprawled atop the counter.

"Hm. I think she'd be best fit to elaborate on that herself," Akechi replies, reclining in his chair and taking a sip. I have seldom ever felt such a strong urge to shove him off his chair, where he sits far too comfortably right now.

"Rin?" Sojiro asks, his eyebrow raised sky-high.

I grit my teeth.

"I have no idea what he's talking about."

"He's just messing with you."

> "I have the right to remain silent."

Sojiro and Morgana look more alarmed than before, but Akechi shows me a satisfied smirk. "You tell him," he whispers audibly, and I almost fall off my chair again, this time stifling laughter.

"I do not appreciate some of the influence you have on her," Morgana remarks to Akechi, who merely shrugs.

"I haven't done anything. All the ways in which she has changed have been her own choices."

I nod, and Morgana rolls his eyes.

"But," Akechi turns to Sojiro, "this does not mean you have any grounds for worry. Even bad girls know how to keep themselves safe."

I cover my face with my hands and groan, not looking at any of them.

"I'm only gonna take your word for that because I trust Rin," Sojiro says sourly, then he sighs. "Should I wait for you to finish up?"

"I already have," Akechi says, standing from his chair and dusting off his trench coat. "Thank you for the meal and for the generous trust."

I wave after him, not making an attempt to tell him to stay. After what he just pulled with Sojiro, I can't afford to insinuate anything else.

"He's quite shameless," mumbles Sojiro, and I laugh, unable to deny that.

"That he is," Morgana concurs. "And yet you're still smiling, Rin. You know, the way I told you that only he can make you smile."

My smile softens. Morgana's right, I think, staring down into my cup. I'm already anticipating the next time I can make time to see him. Momentarily, I wonder if every time we go out, it will inevitably lead to one or another revelation about his past . . . I hope it will. If that's the way to make him open up to me . . . I guess then I'll have to talk about myself as well.

Yet I don't mind that either, I think. I want to see him again . . . to take him to every place that we have and haven't yet seen. To give him . . . everything that he's missed out on. Normalcy? I briefly recall my thought from earlier. At least a taste of it. After thinking him dead, I want to . . . bring him back to life.

. . . Is that something attainable?