... In which Sojiro suggests I take Akechi out to Inokashira Park for what he announced to be our last date, and I try my best to make it into an unforgettable experience and seize my final chance to break down the guard he's never fully dropped yet.

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

At first, I genuinely think that my eyes are deceiving me. It's been a rough day at school; I'm positively beaten, so it's no surprise that I take a moment to stand in the door to Leblanc and blink once, twice, trying to process what I'm seeing: that there at the counter where I normally eat all my meals sits . . . Akechi.

Morgana peeks out of my bag, and I feel him freeze, likely as perplexed as I am.

"Welcome home, Amamiya," Akechi says without missing a beat or looking up from his half-full coffee cup. "I hope you don't mind that I'm intruding on your home again."

I run a hand through my hair and push my glasses up before slowly approaching him. All the stresses of the new semester and the prep work for the upcoming Hawaii trip, which have occupied my mind the entire day, seem insignificant all of a sudden. Of course, I don't mind that Akechi's here. But I want him to look at me when I say that.

"I expect we both had a long day." His voice is flat; I can't make out any sort of undertone in it and I'm not sure how to feel about that. "I was out until now with work, but I think I can finally take a break . . ."

My heart skips a beat. Is he implying what I think he is? I can't say that, ever since he first showed up here, I didn't secretly wish he'd come in person whenever he found himself with some free time for our . . . well, I guess there's no point in calling it anything else: final date.

"And what are your plans for the evening?" he asks, finally facing me.

I can't contain the smile that I've been trying to hold back in front of Sojiro any longer as I drop my bag next to the chair beside him. I sit and urgently hope he'll keep looking at me; at the same time, I'm racking my brain for whether there's anywhere I could offer to take him.

> "I was going to ask if you'd like to spend it together?"

"I've got a busy evening ahead of myself . . ."

"Is that so?" Akechi looks over at Sojiro before finally giving me a smile, even if a tired one. "Well, I do still owe you a date—don't think I've forgotten. If you're so inclined, we could take care of that tonight."

There's an audible crash from behind the counter, and I jerk around, finding Sojiro's eyebrows raised sky-high. "Did he just say—?"

I shrink in my seat, feeling my face flush. That's what I get, I guess, for never bothering to tell Sojiro that Akechi and I were essentially dating.

"Oh, my apologies," Akechi says, looking back and forth between Sojiro and me. "I assumed she told you about us. Since she is . . . staying here with you, no?" I take in his words and feel that he's not sorry at all. He looks like he's trying really hard to keep the corner of his mouth from twisting up into a smirk.

Sojiro's brow rises even higher, and I fight the urge to hide my burning face in my hands and crawl under the counter to never come out again.

"Is that so?" Sojiro sounds like he isn't sure whether to be protective or encouraging. "Rin didn't tell me anything about the . . . two of you at all." Before the fear that he'll question me on the spot, in front of Akechi, can even properly manifest, Sojiro clears his throat. "So, a date with him, huh?" Sojiro throws me an astonished look, then glances back at Akechi. "I suppose it's not my place to disapprove. But if this really is going to be a date . . . this cafe isn't exactly the place to take a lady, especially not this lady." He slaps a hand on my shoulder, and I wince. "Because she deserves the best, of course . . . and because you'd have my watchful eyes on you at all times if you stayed."

I couldn't imagine feeling more mortified, but somehow I do. I jerk my hands up to my face and bury it after all, refusing to look at either of them. Only when Sojiro's hand on my shoulder tenses—as he seems to process properly what he just implied—do I look up again. ". . . N-Not that I would want you to do anything that—!"

"—In that case," Akechi interrupts him, for which I am very grateful. "Do you have any recommendations? Although this place is wonderful . . . you do have a point."

Sojiro is stunned for a moment, and I ask myself whether it was a good call on Akechi's part to ask him . . . or whether he's just doomed us to listening to hours of old stories of Sojiro's own conquests and escapades.

"W-Well . . ." Sojiro scratches his beard thoughtfully. "Normally, I have a plan for situations like this, but you guys aren't looking for anything too fancy, are you? You both look like you could use some peace and quiet."

Akechi and I nod almost simultaneously, and Sojiro shakes his head. "Honestly, why don't you just take a stroll together . . . It's not that late yet, so if you're feeling like you really want to go somewhere, why not take the subway out to Inokashira Park? It's supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Well, according to that couple who came here yesterday . . . at least on weekdays when it's not crowded . . . It's Monday, right?"

I stare at Sojiro, who awkwardly fumbles with his apron. It would take us over half an hour to get to the park by subway . . . I have to admit, I wasn't expecting him to be that lenient with my curfew, especially on a weekday.

"What are you looking at?" Sojiro apparently noticed my staring. "Got a problem with my suggestion? If that's too far for you, you can always—"

"I really like the idea."

> "It sounds lovely, thank you."

"I agree, actually," Akechi says, putting his coffee down. "I haven't been to that park in a long time. I wonder if anything's changed . . ."

"W-Well—" Sojiro clears his throat. "Glad to hear. You're both responsible, right? I trust you won't do anything reckless. And be home at a reasonable time, Rin! I won't be here anymore, so you'll have to take a key and lock up afterward. You got that? I do not want to get a call from your teachers that you were late to school tomorrow."

I give Sojiro my most sincere, bright smile. He's had such a hard time trusting me at first, and I'm elated that he seems to be warming up to the idea that I am the responsible and reliable person I've always aimed to be . . . That, or maybe the playboy in him took over for a moment . . . or both.

I can feel that I can become closer to Akechi again . . . I don't bother thinking about the way it may be for the last time in a while.

"You're really gonna go to Inokashira Park with Akechi?" Morgana speaks for the first time since we entered Leblanc. "Well, I guess it'd be safe enough . . ."

> "Let's go!"

"Hold that thought . . ."

"We better get going then, before the sun sets." Akechi rises from his seat, and I almost latch onto his arm immediately. Instead, I support myself on the counter.

As soon as we're out the door, I'm hit in the face by the humidity in the still-hot air. It's been rainy all week; the air is heavy and loaded, and the clouds hang low above the city, draping a melancholy atmosphere over the almost summer evening. For a moment, I wonder if I should have packed an umbrella . . . but I don't feel like asking Akechi to go back now or waste more time.

It takes us a little over half an hour to get to Inokashira Park by subway, and when we arrive, I see that Sojiro appears to have been right—it's almost empty. The setting sun breaks through the thick clouds, casting a mesmerizing palette of colors on the foliage and the water we soon encounter, creating a scene that feels almost otherworldly.

"Your guardian has taste," Akechi says eventually, coming to a halt by the fence that separates the path from the lake. "This a nice place. Though I wouldn't have minded another coffee either."

I nod and wonder how I can get him to look at me instead of the landscape. But then he turns to face me all on his own. "It must be nice living with a kind man like that. Although I can imagine that staying at a cafe has its downsides too. Does the place even have a proper bathroom?"

I suppress a giggle, wondering which part is more peculiar—the fact that he would ask about something like this or that nobody before him ever has.

"It has a restroom . . ."

> "There's a public bathhouse around the corner."

"I guess it's a little inconvenient . . ."

"So you have to leave the building every time you want to shower or bathe?" I can't tell whether Akechi is pitying me or whether he thinks there are worse things in the world. "Although, I suppose, I'm not one to talk," he says unexpectedly and turns away again.

He looks tense, like he's two seconds from disconnecting from the fence we're leaning on, and leaving. Without thinking, I extend a hand and pinch the fabric of his sleeve between two fingers. The gesture is noticeable enough for Akechi to recognize my attempt to make him stay, but not so intrusive as to cause him to jerk away. He looks back at me with an even less readable expression, then he actually rolls his eyes. "I used to frequent a bathhouse myself when I was younger," he finally says. "Although it was for a different reason, so perhaps I shouldn't compare the situations. These days I'm the Detective Prince . . ." Suddenly, there is bitterness in the way he says the title. "But that wasn't always the case."

I open my hand and lay it on his upper arm, hoping to reassure him. Pieces of memories, words that slipped out of him last time he came to Leblanc surface in my mind, and I am overcome with an urge to burst out that he can share anything with me, and be assured that I will never judge. That he can . . . trust me.

I don't actually do it because I don't want him to think that he has to share anything he isn't comfortable with. But if this is really going to be our last date, I won't have another chance to make him open up. So, I take a deep breath, pondering how to ask without coming across as forceful.

"What was your situation like, before?"

> "If there's anything you want to talk about, I'd love to hear it."

"Tell me only as much as you're comfortable with."

"You—!" Akechi doesn't move away, but his head whips around to me, and for a second, it is I who feels the urge to jerk back. There's a look in his eyes that I've never seen before—it fills me with both tingly excitement and dreadful terror because it's a look that urges me to leave while I still can and, at the same time, to stay.

. . . A look that screams.

I can't move, and neither can he, apparently. We stare at each other for a silent eternity, and I wonder what is going on in his mind, almost more than usual. It is finally Akechi who breaks the odd stalemate. "Fine," he says and shrugs, then he crosses his arms and leans back against the fence. "You want to know so badly, eh?" Well, you probably already gathered that my family situation was . . . complicated."

I nod. He hinted at that very clearly last time. Akechi looks at me like he knows exactly what I am thinking. Because my mother was in a relationship with some good-for-nothing man and was swiftly discarded when he learned she was pregnant with an equally as good-for-nothing son. The words hover in the air without either of us having to repeat them.

"By the time I was old enough to comprehend it, my father was already gone. My mother was all I had," he says matter-of-factly. "She worked at a nightclub. Whenever she had to bring a man home, she'd send me off to the local bathhouse."

I stare at him, a little speechless. A million thoughts race through my mind, and a million emotions assault my heart, but how can I begin to express any of them?

"I'm sorry . . ."

"She had no choice . . ."

> ". . . How did you survive?"

Akechi frowns. "Well, nobody ever tried to kill me . . . ?" Before I can tell him that that's not what I meant, he continues, "Either way, it's all in the past. I have no reason to blame my mother, either. The only one who deserves blame is my father."

The moment the word slips out of his mouth, his whole face hardens. The knuckles on his fist, which peeks out from where he has it tucked under his other arm, are shining white. "That worthless, degenerate excuse for a man who . . . abandoned my mother." The way he hesitates before the word 'abandoned' makes me wonder whether his father did a little more than just that. "I wanted to force him to finally give her the apology he owes her. But . . ." Akechi turns, staring out at the lake. "That's no longer possible." He stands still for a moment before he uncrosses his arms. "Anyway, I hope that's the story you were so eager to hear. Because it's the only one you get."

I realize my own fists are clenched, and I'm fighting an overwhelming urge to hug him again. We are entirely alone, and it may be my last chance . . . Yet before I can give in to any urges, something wet suddenly hits my exposed arm. Another drop wets my cheek, and I make out a few spots on Akechi's otherwise spotless white shirt.

I make a face; of course, it would start to rain now. A howling breeze rustles the treetops around us. I blink away a drop that's fallen into my eye and force myself to give Akechi an encouraging smile.

> "I'm not eager for anything but the truth."

"I already told you I'd listen to anything you wanted to say."

An odd spark enters his eyes for a moment before the corner of his mouth twitches up. "Is that so? Well, now that that's out of the way, maybe we should spend the rest of our last date talking about something less depressing."

I shrug and reciprocate his smile, hoping to convey that I don't mind what we talk about as long as he's being sincere. Then I wince when the sound of thunder cracks the air around us. The sun has already set, and the rain is growing stronger with every second. It's still gentle on my arms and face, but I have a feeling it will soon turn into a torrential downpour.

Akechi makes a face and raises a hand to shield his eyes. "Great. This is just what we needed. Now we should probably head back, lest you catch a cold."

A sting of fear pierces my heart at his words. I don't want to leave yet . . . to leave and never see him again. Not yet!

> "It's just a little rain . . ."

"I won't catch a cold that easily!"

"Are YOU okay?"

"You're not bothered by it?" he asks, and I shake my head. My glasses are so wet that I can barely see, and my drenched shirt sticks to my skin. But it's just a little summer rain . . . it'll take more than that to dissuade me.

"Hm, in that case . . ." Akechi shakes his head, and water from his soaked hair specks my face, making me jump. "I'll stay as long as you can handle it."

I giggle, shake my own hair out of my eyes, and finally remove my glasses. The moment they're off, I can see his crooked grin. I turn and move back, only to step right into a freshly formed puddle. My shoe and stocking become drenched immediately, but at that moment, I couldn't care less. The last time we were together in a downpour like this, I didn't do it because we were in public, but now . . . we're alone. And so I make a decision.

The hammering sound of the rain and the splashing water beneath my feet drown out Akechi's astonished exclaim as I haphazardly twirl on the spot. Raindrops pelt my skin—my head, my body, my exposed arms, and my face—and I feel the water splash up around me, but it feels like I'm being cleansed, rejuvenated, and not soaked to the bone. I don't think about colds or how difficult it will be to get out of these wet clothes later. I don't even think about what Akechi must think. Overwhelmed by a rush of exhilaration, I extend my arms outward and spin, resisting the urge to scream.

When I finally dare to take a small leap, the sole of my shoe slips in the now-muddy ground, and I cry out, anticipating that I will faceplant into the dirt like I always used to when I did this as a child. Yet before I can fall, a gloved hand has me firmly by the arm. I'm being pulled up and steadied, and then I'm staring into Akechi's face, who looks like he is trying to decide whether to laugh or facepalm. "What the hell are you doing?" he asks, and I do not attempt to free myself from his grip.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register that the material of the glove he's wearing is lighter and softer than leather. I quickly reach an arm up to slide my hand into his. I don't know whether I'm surprised or overjoyed that he allows it. Maybe both.

When I consider his question, I realize that what I want is an experience. I haven't played in the rain in years . . . The thought is oddly daunting. I don't ever want to be too old to play in the rain. But the reason I've so shamelessly committed to it now is that I want this evening, our last one, to be something that neither of us will ever forget.

An idea surfaces in my mind, and suddenly, I'm nervous again. But . . . I can't afford nerves. Not tonight. I tighten my grip on Akechi's hand and gently free myself from his hold before reaching for his arm again. Then I take a step back and pull him with me. Akechi doesn't put up much of a fight—likely because he has no idea what I'm trying to do. My hands are firmly in his, and I swallow all of my screaming inhibitions, then start spinning the two of us in a circle.

My shoes aren't made for keeping balance on mud or wet surfaces, and constantly I have to keep myself from slipping, but I don't let go of his hands. I merely spin, feeling the hammering of the rain on my face, and soon begin to laugh joyously. My steps are uninhibited and playful, each sending droplets of water flying in the air.

When I release Akechi's right hand to attempt a twirl again, he has to step up and catch me under the arms. "What is this supposed to be?" he says sourly, even though I have a feeling he's guessed it by now.

I give him my cheekiest grin.

"Dance with me!"

> "You taught me this yourself, remember?"

"What do you think?"

I'm still fighting laughter as I wrap my free arm around his neck in a poor attempt to imitate the way we were dancing in the jazz club. I'm not sure if it's the rush of the moment or an attempt by my brain to counteract the anxiety that I'm not allowing myself to feel tonight.

I give myself over to the unrestrained laughter . . . until it lodges in my throat when Akechi hooks an arm around my waist and pulls me out of an ankle-deep puddle to give a gentle twirl. At that moment, I don't question anything. I tighten my hold, feeling him following my lead this time as I continue spinning the two of us in a circle.

Eventually, my mind catches up with my body, and I comprehend the profound intimacy of the moment—how close he is holding me. Much closer than at the jazz club. I look up, and my lips part. I almost forget to move as I lose myself in admiring the glistening raindrops on his skin and in his hair, like myriads of tiny diamonds. Yet what makes my breath lodge in my throat is the shine in his eyes—a kind that I've never seen before. For an indefinite eternity, I am utterly mesmerized.

When I finally shut my eyes and press my face into his soaked shirt, strands of his hair brush against my forehead. Beneath the sharp, wild smell of rain, I make out a different scent—a cologne? Only now do I realize that Akechi must use it regularly; this scent has always been there; it just wasn't strong enough to notice.

I'm more than ready to lose myself in the experience indefinitely when I am suddenly pushed away from his chest. A strong hand is still holding one of mine, and before I can process what is happening, I'm being spun so rapidly that I can't even trip.

For a moment, I feel like I'm flying, and laughter bubbles up inside me again. Then it lodges in my throat as I find myself occupied trying to keep up with Akechi. Just like that, he takes the lead seamlessly, guiding me to the erratic beat of the raindrops. He is infuriatingly steadfast and confident on the slippery floor . . . However, I'm not, and even though it takes longer than I honestly expected, I inevitably slip again, and this time, Akechi isn't fast enough to catch me.

Together, we crash into the rain-soaked earth. I manage to at least land on my backside and not my face. Akechi curses under his breath, and I break with frantic laughter. "So, did you have enough yet?" he asks, shaking his soaked hair out of his eyes. Without thinking, I extend a hand to brush a strand away. He catches my hand, and I nearly fall into him before he—much more effortlessly than anyone should be able to—pulls me up with himself to stand.

Without further ado, he ushers me toward a couple of large trees that provide at least some shelter from the rain. "You have mud all over your face, you know." He brushes a thumb over my cheek and even though he's wearing gloves, my face heats up under his touch. For a moment, he stares at me with another unreadable expression. I'm slowly but surely losing count of how many of them he has. "You're so carefree yet so responsible at the same time," he says. "I bet you were just waiting for an opportunity to drag me into something like this."

I suppress laughter, yet I can't bring myself to deny it. A faint smile dashes over his face, telling me that he understood. "Well, this is the first time I've ever done something comparable." Akechi pauses to take me in. "Before all of this, I was going to say that we're not unsimilar," he continues. "We're both victims of the adults who unfairly impacted our lives . . . and yet we're also light years apart. I wonder what kind of traits or chain of circumstances determined our outcomes . . ."

I consider his words. He's right that we were both unjustly victimized by an adult—I vividly remember the night I was arrested and the screaming feeling of helplessness that haunted me for a long time . . . until it was alleviated by the presence and support of my friends. Although I wonder what he means when he says that we're light years apart. I don't want to be anything but close to him . . . and I can't help but wonder whether he feels the same.

But Akechi isn't looking at me anymore. He's taken a step back and raised his head to stare at the dark sky, despite the hammering rain. As long as he's not looking, I take him in and think that the way he is now—completely drenched, disheveled—he looks and sounds so unlike the polite, immaculate Detective Prince he plays in public. Yes, it suddenly hits me—it's a facade. I don't know why I haven't considered it sooner, although I must have subconsciously known for a while. How much trust must he be putting in me to let it slip, even if only for a moment?

Then I suddenly wonder whether I've even seen his unabridged self before. Whether he would conceal anything from me, even now. Even here, after what we just did.

As though he sensed my staring, Akechi turns back to me. "Hah . . ." He sounds dryer than I expected. "First you persuade me to tell you about my family situation . . . and then you make me dance with you in this downpour." I could have sworn something in his eyes shifts . . . darkens before he turns away. "What are you doing to me . . ."

He isn't talking to me anymore, but the words pinch my heart—I can't even tell if in a good or bad way.

> "You're doing something to me too . . ."

"What would you like me to do to you?"

"Not nearly as much as I would like to," he says without missing a beat, and my jaw drops. I'm convinced that my heart stops for a split second. Part of me wants to ask him what he means by that . . . or better yet, to simply demonstrate it, but it seems as though I've exhausted my courage supplies for the day. Instead, I simply take a step closer, raise my hands, and slide them into his.

For a moment, the world stands still. The loud yet oddly calming sounds of the rain and the foliage around us are the only things I can hear, and the cool of the drops pelting my skin clashes with the warmth of his hands in mine. At that moment, there is no tomorrow. No fear, no doubt, and no looming end to dread.

I feel like my bond with Akechi is growing deeper . . .

RANK UP!

CONFIDANT: Goro Akechi | JUSTICE ^ RANK 6

~

[You will now earn more EXP from Arcana Burst when fusing Personas of the Justice Arcana!]

Once again, it's Akechi who breaks the silence first. He slowly releases my hands and before I can react, he's gripped my shoulders. "You are . . ." He looks at me like he desperately wants to say something but isn't sure how or even what.

I smile and raise my hands to place them on top of his.

"What am I?"

> ". . . You are too."

For a moment, Akechi is stunned. Then he blows out a breath. "You . . . you." His voice is low, and he's almost whispering. His eyes are dark, magnetic; I can't look away. "Why do you have to be like this?"

Although the look he gives me is sharp, there is also something else in it. Something that makes my heart race and hammer at the back of my throat. I don't think he's ever looked at me like this before.

". . . Why can't you just be like everyone else?" Akechi hisses. "Why can't you just be like every other rotten, disgusting person in this world?! Why do you say things that . . . 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?" His voice drips with desperation; it . . . almost doesn't sound like him. Not the 'him' I know, anyway.

I still can't bring myself to look away from him . . . or move at all. If there ever was a moment when he dropped all his walls around me, it's happening right now.

"Well . . ." His tension eases all of a sudden. He shakes his head and turns away, although he does not release my shoulders. "Serves you right, then."

He doesn't give me the opportunity or time to process anything he said at that moment. Only in retrospect will I know what he meant and that he was trying to warn me. Not that I would have been persuaded to listen either way.

The next time I search for him with my eyes, he's already taken two steps in the direction from which we came. And when he speaks, he sounds perfectly normal again, as though nothing happened. "Anyway . . . maybe we should finally get out of this rain. It's getting late."

I can't respond. Too many thoughts and impressions swarm my head, but I don't allow myself to linger on what he just sounded like or what he said . . . or to admit that somewhere deep in my heart, I do know that extending my hand and heart to him so eagerly is foolish and that I'll most likely suffer for it. I don't have any evidence beyond what he just said, but I know anyway.

I'll suffer . . . but I won't regret it, I decide. It's not too late, I repeat to myself over and over. It doesn't have to be too late, as long as we don't give up hope. But I don't say anything. As little as I want to let him go . . . he's right about how we can't stay here forever. I've been trying my hardest to ignore it so far, but I can't deny any longer that I'm starting to shiver from the rain.

"Come on." Akechi steps back toward me and takes my arm, and I don't resist as he leads me to the park entrance. I don't mind all the curious looks we draw in the subway either; people can think whatever they want about the disheveled, soaked mess that we are. More importantly, Akechi doesn't let go of my arm once, and I relish the feeling for as long as I still can. I'm trying my hardest not to count the minutes.

When we finally reach Yongen, he walks me back to Leblanc—for the first time. My mind is on the bathhouse, and I wonder if it's still open. Right now, I crave a hot bath more than I have in a while.

Yet when we come to a halt in front of the cafe door, that's all it takes to take my mind off of the prospect of a bath and return me to the present. The present, in which this is a last goodbye.

> "Wanna come inside for a bit?"

"Would you still like a hot coffee?"

Akechi gives me a long look. "You're going to do anything to cling to your dream for as long as you can, aren't you?"

I know that he means the way I am still stalling saying goodbye . . . and I don't argue with him. Although, to me, he certainly is much more than a mere dream.

"I'll have a coffee," Akechi says after a short pause. "But only one . . . and only because I want something warm after all this rain."

With a wide grin, I swing the door open and lead him in. Akechi lets me quickly get changed up in my room but refuses when I offer him a blanket. He is silent for as long as it takes me to brew two cups of steaming coffee. Only when I take a seat next to him does he look up from his folded hands on top of the counter.

"Well . . . even though we got rained out, we still managed to enjoy ourselves, right?"

I take a sip and nod. Even if not physically, I feel more than refreshed mentally. Akechi takes a sip as well, then looks away from me. "I've been thinking about it, and . . . it is nice to spend the day as Goro Akechi rather than the Detective Prince."

I perk up. My thought from earlier comes to mind . . . so I was right about the facade. I smile, but Akechi's still not looking at me.

"I don't know if it's because of the Prince image, but everyone seems to think I'm some kind of brilliant prodigy. It's really nothing like that." Once again, I hear bitterness in his voice. "But people always seem to misunderstand."

He must put in a lot of effort to create the illusion of effortlessness, I think, and ask myself just how hard he has to work to fulfill all the expectations.

"I wonder . . ." Akechi finally looks up at me. "If they saw the way we were acting today, would they think any differently of me?"

I hold his inquisitive and almost shockingly real stare for a second, then I have to cast my eyes down.

"Most likely."

"They'd probably love it!"

> "For what it's worth, I loved it."

For a second, Akechi wears that 'Have you lost your mind?' face again, then he actually smiles. "Well, you're not exactly like everyone else." I'm still contemplating whether that was meant to be a compliment when his smile drops and he continues, "People are fickle. Their minds change, and so do their hearts."

After a moment of hesitation, Akechi leans back, swings one leg over the other, and downs his coffee in one go. Then he looks up straight at me with an expression that is so disgusted and raw—so unlike anything that I ever associated with him—that, in retrospect, I will question whether I imagined it. It makes the look he gave me earlier, when he questioned my fondness for him, look almost harmless.

"See . . . hypothetically—if you met someone you thought you knew, but their personality changed into something completely different . . . hah," he scoffs, and the corner of his mouth twitches up to match the vicious gleam in his eyes. "That's not funny at all. It's disturbing. For some, that change is a blessing . . . I can't comprehend it at all."

A moment of silence goes by during which I cannot move, much less speak. I am far too stunned, and quite honestly . . . shocked to formulate a response. All I can do is look at Akechi, who is staring at the Sayuri in the corner with a strikingly apathetic expression, and try to comprehend what's gotten into him.

No matter how much I try, I cannot fit the way he's speaking and acting right now with the mental image of him that I've crafted so diligently throughout all of the time we spent together. It's not just what he's saying—it's the way he sounds and looks, first and foremost. So far, he's always maintained an air of seemingly effortless elegance and grace. Now it's like all that careful deliberation slipped away and left him looking . . . like he doesn't give a single shit anymore. In short, he looks like the exact opposite of what I thought he was like so far.

For the lack of options, I keep staring at him, trying to convince myself that I'm so tired I'm hallucinating. Because the alternative would be that what I'm seeing is real and that I'd have to somehow find a way to fit it into my image of him . . . which I've been decently confident in until now.

Akechi makes it easy for me, though. The moment he notices me staring, he snaps out of it, or, well, back into it—the grace and finesse I'm accustomed to from him. Even his expression, formerly hard as stone, softens. "My apologies; it seems I got a bit carried away there. I didn't mean to offend or upset you."

A part of me screams that I probably shouldn't ignore what just happened just because it's more convenient for me than to start reevaluating everything I think I know about him . . . and in retrospect, I'll curse my narrow-mindedness and hypocrisy. I've always considered myself to be interested in getting to know the real him, yet I couldn't bring myself to acknowledge it then. It's just so easy and tempting to attribute the single odd moment to our tiredness.

I shake my head.

> "You don't have to apologize."

"We're both tired."

"It's alright, I'm not upset."

"Hah . . ." Akechi uncrosses his legs. "I really can't figure you out, no matter how hard I try," he has the audacity to say, and I make a face. He's one to talk! Like I'm the hard one to figure out between the two of us!

As though he's read my mind, he gives me a faint smirk. "I'm serious. I've never met anyone like you . . . It truly is a shame that I can't keep seeing you. But maybe it is also for the best." He doesn't give me time to protest. "Maybe, before we meet again, you'll have given my words from earlier some thought. You really shouldn't be this kind to just anyone. It will only get you hurt."

Before I can say anything, he pushes his chair back and stands. "Thank you for the delicious coffee, but I really ought to be going. Your guardian relies on you to be in bed on time, doesn't he?"

An icy fist closes around my heart as I watch him turn to leave. Instinctively, I leap up from my chair as well.

> "I'll wait for you."

"See you again soon?"

Akechi turns back one last time, and I see in his eyes that he's silently begging me to rethink that decision. But my mind is made up, and I won't let him dissuade me just like that.

Maybe it'd be smarter, I think as I watch him turn and walk out the door. Not for the last time. I clench my fists and suddenly have to fight the rising tears. It won't be the last time; it can't be. It can't end here.

. . . And, of course, it does not. It's far too late for both of us. It has been since the first day we met. And no matter how much wiser it would have been to heed his warning, unconditional hope has always been my most fatal weakness. I wouldn't have abandoned it, even if I had known the price I would have to pay for clinging to it.

. . . Especially not for Goro Akechi.