... In which I have to break my own heart in order to pull my friends back into reality with Akechi as my sole anchor. How much can he uncover in the meantime, about Dr. Maruki's intentions—and can he really finally accept my love?

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

Akechi told me he would be gone, yet when I wake up alone, I still find myself in a panic, questioning whether any of what happened yesterday was real. I stay curled in my sheets for longer than I normally would, searching for traces of his scent and telling myself that I am not imagining them.

Only when I tiptoe down the stairs and find our used coffee cups still on the counter—and the door tightly locked—do I dare breathe out in relief. I quickly wash the cups and prepare breakfast for myself—Sojiro hasn't arrived and the cafe hasn't opened yet, but I can't imagine going back to bed.

Then I sit by the counter and take out my phone to text Sojiro about the keys. His reply is followed up by a suggestive winking emoji, and I have to put my phone down for a few minutes to sit there with my face buried in my hands before I can text Akechi.

RIN AMAMIYA

> Thank you for locking the door as you promised!

When he finally replies, I have almost finished breakfast.

GORO AKECHI ♥︎

> Next time, I might use such an opportunity to demonstrate why you shouldn't trust those who haven't earned it.

I snort with laughter and still cannot lose my smile as I absent-mindedly press the call button. Suddenly, the need to hear his voice in my ear is just as essential to start the day as coffee—if not more.

"You're up early," Akechi says without introduction, and the moment I hear his voice, my heart skips a beat. "I'm not kidding, though. Don't delegate essential duties like that to people who might let you down."

I make a face.

"You didn't let me down."

> "I trust you."

He groans, and I laugh again. "How do you live like this?" he asks, aggravated. "You're talking to someone who led you on, broke your heart, told it to your face that your care was loathsome, and then tried to kill you. Is that not enough?"

I cover my mouth with my hand and smile.

"I doubt you'd do it again."

> "You have no more reasons to deceive me."

"You also saved me."

"And that's enough?" he asks incredulously. Then he laughs. "You're such a fool. Either way, I've just gotten off a call with Yoshizawa-san's father, and he believes she's been at "training camp" since yesterday. To think, Maruki is really changing our physical reality as he sees fit . . ."

I clutch my phone tighter, realizing that, among everything that happened yesterday, I haven't properly processed this yet.

> "He doesn't control me anymore."

"That's scary . . ."

"And make certain it stays that way," heeds Akechi. "You made me a promise, remember? How about we make it into a deal? As long as you don't give in to Maruki, we can continue that special relationship that he doesn't believe we're capable of maintaining in reality." He laughs quietly, then his voice grows dead serious. "However, should you change your mind, it's off. No matter what Maruki would tell you, know that anything you might have of me in a reality controlled by his whims will be against my wishes."

Swallowing hard, I try not to feel chills creep up my spine. I am acutely aware that he's essentially blackmailing me . . . with himself. And yet . . .

". . . I can't promise that."

> "Deal."

I almost breathe out in relief, grateful for his resolve that takes a part of the load off my shoulders.

"Good." I hear a great deal of relief in Akechi's voice as well, feeling a pang at the realization that he must not be capable of trusting me so much that he'd feel secure without a promise like this. Then, before I can ask what will happen after we defeat Dr. Maruki, he continues, "So, although he no longer controls you, your great Phantom Thieves are still under his sway, no? Are you going to see if you can change their minds the way I did with you?"

I hum in approval. There is no way I'm leaving my friends the way they are now . . . Even if it means breaking their hearts in the process. But it'll be okay, I think, clutching my phone tighter. As long as I have Akechi to fall back on . . .

"Well, fine," he says after a pause. "I suppose we can use the manpower . . . If you can actually bring them to their senses, that is. That's wholly dependent on whether or not they're capable of leaving the reality they supposedly wished for. It's not all that easy, as you've witnessed for yourself," he adds with a tinge of sarcasm, and I sigh in acknowledgment before I hear the door unlock and the bell chime. I whip around in my seat, watching Sojiro and Morgana step through the door.

"Morning, Rin!" Morgana greets me, and for the first time, his human appearance actually strikes me as unsettling. I sit and stare for one moment before I force myself to give him a wave, then point at my phone.

"Be quiet," Sojiro snickers. "She's probably calling her boyfriend again. Ah, to be young and in love!"

Morgana laughs, and I cover my burning face with my free hand, turning away. "Well, I suppose I should let you go," says Akechi, apparently having heard the ruckus. "While you do what you need to, I'll focus on investigating Maruki further."

Before he can hang up, I almost cut him off.

> "When will I see you again?"

"Can't we do this together?"

"On January 9th," Akechi says, and my face falls. Apparently, my disappointment is so palpable that he notices it even through the phone. "You can text me if you so want," he announces, and I hear the smirk in his voice. "Or call, if you fancy that more. But I doubt that my presence will serve much of a purpose if you're trying to get through to your friends."

I make a face. Actually, I was going to ask for his help in making them come to their senses. I don't even have a clue where to begin! And . . . I recall the way it felt to lay in his arms. His lips on mine, and my hands tucked inside his coat. My bedsheets that still smell like him. But . . . I lift my eyes toward Sojiro, who just disappeared in the kitchen, and Morgana, who takes a seat beside me, throwing me an already suggestive glance. I can hardly ask him to come hold me until I fall asleep every night with Morgana listening.

"You can count on that I will!"

> "I'll call you every night until you're sick of my voice!"

"I can't wait to do that."

Akechi laughs softly, in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. "Isn't that a fun challenge?" he says. "By the end of the week, I'll tell you if you've won." Then he hangs up, and I sit there with my phone still pressed against my ear, trying to contain the swell of giddy emotions that overcome me.

"That really was Akechi, wasn't it?" Morgana asks when I lower my phone. "There's something pretty serious going on between the two of you, am I right?"

Without giving it much thought, I nod, and Morgana smiles. "Well, I'm really happy for you either way. See, I was thinking . . . Why don't us Phantom Thieves all go to a hot spring together some time? There, Lady Ann and I too could . . ." He laughs suggestively, and I smile, suppressing an eye roll. "How's that sound? Perfect, right? We should ask the rest of the gang soon."

I skitter in my seat, eyeing him from the side. This is the reality that Morgana wished for, it seems. Meddling with his happy contentment goes against my innermost nature, but . . . What would Akechi do? I ask myself suddenly. What did Akechi do yesterday morning?

> "Are you happy?"

"Is this the way it's always been?"

"Huh?" Morgana turns to me, wide-eyed. "Where's this coming from? W-Well, yeah, I'd say I'm happy," he adds after a pause. Only as I find myself fighting my own instincts to not disturb his tranquility do I realize that this might be a lot harder for me than it must have been for Akechi yesterday. I'm not . . . I swallow. He's the truth-seeker. I only really seek peace. And Morgana is at peace, isn't he? All my friends are . . .

No, I grit my teeth. They are in the same kind of hollow bliss that I was in. I thought I was at peace too, but it wasn't real. It wasn't genuine. And this guy . . . I look him over again. This isn't who Morgana really is—and not just in appearance. Even his demeanor has mellowed far more than should be possible. It's just . . . not him. He's lost himself in his own desire, and as long as he's caught in it, he won't find his true self again.

Determinedly, I stand from my chair, facing him.

"Are you sure?"

> "Do you feel like yourself?"

"Myself?" Morgana asks incredulously. "Well, yeah, why wouldn't I? I mean, I'm still that guy who promised to stay with you after everything we've fought for, so—" Suddenly, Morgana catches himself. "Wait . . . What did I mean by . . . ?" His hands clench around the counter. "That . . . doesn't seem right . . . I got captured in Kamoshida's Palace, and that's when I met you guys. When we go to Mementos, I transform into a . . ."

I nod enthusiastically, my heart hammering out of my chest. Maybe this won't be so bad. Maybe . . . I can do this after all.

"Keep thinking!"

> "You can do this!"

"Huh, can do what?"

I open my mouth, but then I see in his eyes that I might not even have to say more.

". . . That—!" Abruptly, Morgana rises from his chair. "Sorry, I'm gonna go out and do some thinking for a bit. Please tell Sojiro—and Futaba and Wakaba when they arrive—that I'll be back soon." With that, he leaves the cafe, and I'm left both elated and a little apprehensive. On one hand, that seemed like a good start. On the other . . .

No! I blow out a breath, shaking my head. I don't have time for unwarranted guilt. It's for their own good, I tell myself over and over. It's . . . so that they can all embrace themselves again. I stuff my hands deep into my pockets and briefly inform Sojiro that Morgana's out before stepping outside as well.

No matter how little I'm going to enjoy this . . . it seems that I have something that I need to do. The only question is, which one of my friends do I see next?

***

Dr. Maruki offered me happiness, but instead, I spend the next week in a state of overwhelming stress. I anticipated that trying to make my friends see the truth would be straining, but I didn't quite expect it to bring me this close to my limit.

Even though it drags the entire process out, I cannot stomach talking to more than one of them a day. And by the end of each day, I am nearing a breakdown. I am not used to feeling conflicting emotions of this magnitude, and oftentimes I feel quite literally torn apart by the war I have to wage against my own desire for contentment.

I crave peace almost more than I normally do, yet there is no peace. Not when I have to hurt every one of my friends and crush their innermost dreams, day and day again. The dreams that they deserve to have fulfilled. That contain things and people taken from them unjustly. That I shouldn't be disturbing. But I should. I should . . . so that they can find themselves again. Their selves who have grown from those unjust losses and failures. Their selves who have fought so hard.

Because dreams aren't real.

They aren't.

Why do they feel so real? I want to scream. Why do they carry such real emotions? Why do they cause such real pain?

Had Akechi not offered me to call him as often as I wanted, I wouldn't have pulled through. By the end of each day, I am sitting curled on my bed, sometimes shaking, sometimes crying. Always talking to him. For hours, far longer than I should be up, I sit there and talk into my phone—more than I ever have in this manner. To anyone. Hearing his voice is the only thing I anticipate every day—my reward. My anchor. The one voice that will never cease to tell me to keep going when all the ones in my head scream at me that it's not right.

Especially on the first few days, I am self-conscious about genuinely bothering him. I have never talked to anyone as much as to him on the phone, and not with so little restraint either. Normally, I'd keep all these thoughts to myself, but . . . I cannot.

I'm almost ashamed of how desperately I need someone to tell me each and every day that I have done the right thing. That it will pay off in the end. For someone to just . . . listen. Listen to me for once. And Akechi does—day by day, he listens to me lay my heart bare, and day by day, all he tells me is that I'm doing well. I'm doing well.

I don't even reveal many personal things about my friends, who . . . aren't his friends yet, but I am still racked by guilt for taking up hours of his time like that. Whenever I try to apologize or back away, though, all he does is tell me that I haven't done anything wrong. Then he'll ask me a follow-up question or pick up my train of thought right where I left it, and I can never resist the prospect of continuing.

I'm doing what I have to in order to be able to keep going. I am. And yet I'm still so guilt-ridden that I don't call him on the third day after speaking to Futaba.

He calls me instead.

"Did you neglect your duty, or is your shame unwarranted again?" he asks.

And so I break down, crying once more.

"No amount of freely given fulfillment could match the delight they will feel when they realize the progress they have made through all their errors and struggles," Akechi says on the fourth day, and that sticks with me. Haven't I watched them grow and heal from their losses? Haven't I been there with them every step of the way? They wouldn't be the same people they are now without all of those pains. They aren't for as long as they deny them. If anything, shouldn't I help them recall how proud they can be of themselves? How proud I am of them?

And so it goes night after night throughout the week. Yet no matter how much I crave to have him here with me, to wrap myself in his embrace and find comfort in that way, I don't ask Akechi to come see me in person anymore. Maybe he needs time, I wonder sometimes. To grow accustomed to the idea of us. Maybe it's another autonomy thing. Or something entirely else. I don't ask him; I don't bring it up at all.

Until the night of January 8th, when I lay in bed, my phone pressed tightly to my ear. Not crying that time, but relieved and beyond. I've done it . . . All of my friends will see the truth; in this, I believe sincerely.

Despite the happier-than-usual occasion, it is past midnight, and we might have been talking for over an hour again. Only then, for the first time, I whisper, "Can you pick me up here tomorrow to go see Dr. Maruki?"

There is a moment's silence. "Will you sleep easier if I say yes?" Akechi asks.

I roll over and hug my phone to my chest momentarily. Then I raise it again and whisper, even quieter, "I miss you."

Another moment of silence passes. "I'll see you tomorrow then," Akechi replies and my heart skips a beat when I unmistakably make out a smile in his voice. "Now get some sleep, or else you won't be able to give it your all tomorrow." He pauses. "You realize that not anyone could have done what you did for your friends there, yeah? No matter the cost, one day they'll be deeply grateful."

I hum approvingly, at the same time reflecting on how grateful I am that he did this same thing for me. Without him, I wouldn't have a clear head to even attempt to break my friends out. Maybe I should find some way to express my gratitude after we've met up with Dr. Maruki . . .

"Good night," I whisper into my phone, and then, for the first time in a week, I actually sleep peacefully.

***

Despite how late I went to bed, I wake up early the next day and meet Morgana downstairs. "Sojiro, Futaba, and . . . Wakaba are all out," he says. "I gotta go somewhere too, soon. Do you have any plans for the day?"

I step behind the counter to make breakfast and nod. He hasn't brought up the impossibility of Wakaba's being here or his own appearance anymore since we spoke about it a week ago, and I'm a little apprehensive about whether he might need another push.

> "I'm going to Odaiba with Akechi."

"Akechi is taking me to the stadium."

"Oh, so it's a date." Morgana smirks, and I smile back. Well, technically, it is a desperate attempt to save one of my friends and then reality itself, but . . . maybe it can be both.

"I'm really happy for you, believe me," Morgana adds after a pause. He slides back and forth in his seat, averting his gaze. "Hey, so . . . about what you said the other day . . . You know, that stuff about my happiness . . ." I listen up. Is my attempt finally paying off? He hesitates a moment longer, then abruptly rises from his seat. "Sorry—it's nothing," he says, and my heart drops into my stomach cavity. "I'll be going then. Enjoy your date!"

I watch him walk out the door wistfully, then force my focus back on my still-half-full cup of coffee. It seems I can really not do anything else for him at the moment. And the rest of my friends . . .

What—is your insufferable belief abandoning you now, of all times? I hear what Akechi said when I brought this fear up last time, and smile. You can try harder. But from what you've told me, it might be best to just wait and see.

Just as I finally prepare to stand up and go wash out my cup, the doorbell chimes. I freeze in my spot, and when I realize who it is that steps through the door, I leap up from my seat without thinking. I sprint, and then I'm flying into his arms, nearly sending the two of us crashing into the wall.

"Shit—!"

Akechi catches himself on the counter, but I barely notice. All I feel is his arms twisting around me and the caress of his hair against my temple.

"You really haven't had enough of me yet, huh?"

I loosen my arms around his neck and stand on my tiptoes, brushing the tips of my fingers along his cheek, then my lips against his.

> "I had far too little of you recently."

"Never once."

When I open my eyes, Akechi stares at me incredulously, but he does not push me away. He doesn't even loosen his grip as he ushers me back toward the counter. "Aren't you going to ask me whether you lost your challenge?"

For a moment, I am confused. Then I remember what I said about talking to him so much that he'd grow tired of my voice and scowl, concerned.

"You've lost," is all he says before releasing me and taking a seat in the chair where I ate my breakfast. He crosses his legs, giving me one of his incomprehensible looks, and I'm so distracted by his sheer presence here that it takes me a few moments to process what his words imply.

"You're not tired of my voice?"

> "I haven't talked too much yet?"

I ask breathlessly, and he smirks. Only then, when looking into his dark eyes that gleam in an utterly irresistible way, does the full weight of how much I have missed being around him hit me.

"You don't have to feel self-conscious about it, you know?" Akechi says, as if he looked into my soul and saw all my only half-voiced fears, making my breath catch. "You're not a bother. Do you think I lied when I used to tell you that I quite enjoy listening to you? If shame is the only reason you speak so little, you should do it more."

I stare at him with widened eyes, replaying the collected, neutrally spoken words in my mind over and over. Then a smile spreads across my face, and for some reason, I feel my cheeks flush. No one has ever said anything comparable to me; my friends and everyone I know only ever tell me how good I am at listening. But speaking . . . if I could fall in love with him any more, I think I just did.

Not losing my smile, I take a step closer and come to a halt in front of him. As long as we're alone, I anticipate that he might pull me onto his lap if I continue standing here.

"Anyway," Akechi continues, disregarding my unvoiced request and I cross my arms, pouting just a little. "While you were trying to save your friends, I've uncovered a few things in my investigation this week. I should probably share these with you before we head to Odaiba."

I nod and lean closer, pressing against his leg and leaning on the counter. Akechi gives me an amused look before finally wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in. I settle in his arms, leaning my cheek against the curve of his neck, and almost close my eyes.

"What did you find?"

> "Please do."

The next few minutes I spend listening to Akechi explain things about Dr. Maruki himself—some of which I already knew while others are new to me. I feel a pang in my heart hearing about how his funding was cut off and his research ended for him. Akechi implies that something grave happened and that this failure pushed him over some kind of edge. But even if—it doesn't explain how he gained such powers.

"What was the purpose of his research into cognitive psience? Doesn't it feel like there's more to the story?" Akechi asks and I nod. Something . . . must have happened. Something that triggered his desire to become distorted.

"For example . . . Maybe his research was stymied by someone else for their own reasons," Akechi suggests, and I listen up. Isn't that what happened to Wakaba as well? "Anyway, that's all I could dig up about Maruki's history," he adds after a pause. "The only thing that's become clearer is his stance on using cognitive psience—he's dead serious about "saving" people."

I didn't really ever have any doubts about that, but in Akechi's eyes, I see that Dr. Maruki's approach must be so unfathomable to him that he did. "He distorted reality itself to make his dream come true. I can only imagine how delighted he is right now."

A pit forms in my stomach when I picture how dejectedly Dr. Maruki looked at me when I rejected him. Becoming happy through bringing happiness to others . . . Once upon a time, the two of us bonded over sharing this habit. But now . . .

"Ah, that reminds me—there was one more thing I wanted to tell you." Akechi gives me a side glance, and I wonder if he's thinking about my reality. About the realities my friends are inhabiting, and . . . "About the reality Maruki's put us in," he says as if he's read my mind. For one brief moment, he pauses, then shakes his head. "It seems that Okumura and Wakaba are both considered alive by all accounts here."

I raise my head, staring wide-eyed.

"They're not dead anymore?"

"How can that be?"

> "Did he . . . erase their deaths from history?"

I recall Dr. Maruki's words about history's cruelties vanishing and feel a shiver when Akechi nods. "That seems to be exactly what he's done. They aren't mere illusions or cognitive beings. They are truly alive and existing because their deaths . . . didn't take place in this reality."

I blow out a breath, suddenly feeling even worse about waking Futaba and Haru from their realities. At least . . . Hopefully they won't be aware when it happens.

Then I freeze again, my eyes on Akechi, as I realize something else.

"That's because your crimes were erased."

> "Because you never . . ."

"Because I never killed them," he says without missing a beat, and I stiffen up. But all he does is raise an eyebrow. "You can say it as it is. If you're frightened of my truth, you're in the wrong spot, Amamiya."

I swallow, trying to reconcile the idea of speaking about all of this casually in my mind. I'm not denying the truth of what he's done, but . . . I realize that so far, I didn't bring it up out of consideration. But maybe I should. Because then it crosses my mind that maybe it'd be more considerate to acknowledge it, given how strongly he seems to feel about owning up to one's actions.

When I can't bring myself to reply, Akechi straightens out on his chair, pushing me off his chest and against the counter, glaring. "You cannot claim to "want reality" and then refuse to acknowledge what's a part of it," he says. "That's not how reality works. And I've had enough of being cut into pieces, all because those are more palatable."

I shake my head vehemently—I've never, not once, wanted anything but all of him!

But he resumes speaking before I can: "If you can't live with the truth of what I've done—if you're here waiting for me to switch back to "normal", that's not going to happen. The Goro Akechi you apparently fell in love with half a year ago is dead—and he's not coming back. Frankly, I'm quite sick of him." He places a finger on my chest, hissing, "So, if that's why you're still here, you can just save us both the disappointment and get out."

Momentarily, I'm stunned. Yet the moment I feel it, I suppress the pang that his defensiveness makes me feel and enclose the hand he keeps on my chest in mine.

"I'm not denying your truth."

> "But the Goro Akechi I love sits right here."

"I want you the way you really are."

He snorts. "Oh? Do you even know who he really is?"

Before he can continue, I bring his hand to my face and take a deep breath. "I'm not denying what you've done," I say. "And I'm not denying what you're trying to do now. To go back to a reality where you can atone." Momentarily, the corner of his mouth twitches, telling me that I've hit the nail on the head. "I'm going to talk about it if you want me to. If you feel like talking about it, I'm here for that."

"Oh, yeah?" he asks, eyebrows raising.

"The past can't be undone either way," I mumble, inadvertently into his hand that I'm still raising to my face. "What's the point in clinging to it? All we can do with it is learn. But I don't think anyone still needs to tell you that."

The corner of his mouth twitches up again. "The past can be undone now," he says disgustedly.

"It shouldn't be."

"We're on the same page there." Akechi pauses. "You're really willing to just let go of all that? Just like so?"

I shrug. "Why not? We both know what you did was wrong, and that cannot be changed. But we also both know that you are no longer the person who would act in that way. And that matters so much more than any pain inflicted in the past. You said it yourself," I whisper into his palm. "Nothing could match the delight felt from realizing the progress one has made through all their errors and struggles."

"The past makes us wiser," he mumbles.

"And it has," I insist, then smile. "I fell in love with you back when you were still Prince Charming. I didn't lose hope when you turned into the villain . . . and I'm giving my heart to you again now that you are . . . neither anymore. That's what I mean." I tighten my hold on his hand. "You're right here."

For one moment, he stares at me, then he laughs. "And you claim honestly that the past has made you wiser?"

I halfheartedly swat at his face, laughing, but he catches my hand, pulling me closer again. "You're not like everyone else," he mumbles to himself. "You are . . ." He leaves the sentence unfinished, but he lets me embrace him again, and I realize that my heart feels lighter now. Have I subconsciously waited for one of us to bring this up?

"You are too," I mumble without thinking, turning his face toward me and brushing my lips against his. Even this faint contact sends a cascade of sparks racing through my veins.

"What you are is insatiable," Akechi says. For one moment, he hesitates, then tightens his arm around my waist and brushes back my hair to place a kiss on my exposed shoulder. I gasp, feeling his gloved fingers gently travel along my neck. "Why do you react like that when I do this?"

I barely have the composure to look incredulous. Why? Did he seriously just ask—?

"So, regarding what I said earlier," Akechi continues as if nothing happened while I try desperately to resume breathing normally. The spot where his lips touched burns . . . And I have a hard time focusing on anything except the thought that I'd like for my whole body to burn like that. "I was going to mention that Shido was the only one arrested for the crime of attempting to overthrow the government," says Akechi. "The Phantom Thieves were causing a stir in this society as well, but there's no record of your arrest now."

I dig my fingers deeper into his vest, fishing for words. Right . . . my arrest.

> "So, my "crime" has been erased too."

"Dr. Maruki did that for me as well?"

"Exactly that," Akechi confirms. "We have to find out how Maruki was able to distort reality to such extremes . . . But at the very least, he was being honest about making such revisions—and rather convenient ones."

I frown, looking up at him. If he doesn't want his crimes erased, what's so convenient about that?

"If you or I were in custody, we wouldn't be able to oppose him, would we now?" Akechi adds upon noticing my face. "It's all a matter of turning his own meddling against him—the sooner, the better. Remaining in this Maruki-revised reality means living under his thumb forever . . ." His hand around my shoulder tightens. "And I refuse to live like that. I'll be the one to choose my path. That's how I've lived up to now, and it's going to continue from here until the end."

He has lived . . . until now? I frown again; technically, hasn't he lived under Shido's thumb the entire time?

"I have lived in pursuit of my liberty and my truth," Akechi adds, sensing my confusion. "And so I shall continue. There will be no more shackles and no more lies. But we've already discussed this in length. Remember our deal, yeah?"

I nod. No matter what Dr. Maruki says, I will not give in to him . . . I think briefly of my friends and how they're on the cusp of seeing the truth. Then my mind runs back to Sumire and that we'll still have to change her mind. Help her resist.

"Perhaps we should get going then," Akechi says after a pause. "We might have a difficult confrontation ahead of us. Are you ready? It is quite likely that we'll have to confront Maruki physically again." Akechi releases me, waving toward the door. "So if there's something you still need to take care of, do it now."

Briefly, I consider whether I have all the items I'll need, but then I shake my head, slipping off his lap begrudgingly, and fetch my coat.

Yet when we step out of the cafe door, Akechi doesn't make his way toward the subway. Instead, he steps aside to reveal his motorbike, parked right across the street. "I came here by other means today since it would be faster." He smirks, then reaches into the trunk and hands me a second helmet. "I even brought one for you this time."

I accept the helmet and stand there, a little stunned, as I watch him don his own, then slip into the jacket. While I didn't expect that we'd ride together like this again, my heart suddenly beats out of my chest in excitement.

Without further ado, Akechi swings one leg across and looks back at me with a smirk so wide that I can even see it through his helmet. "Oh, Amamiya, what's the holdup?" he asks, extending a hand. "I thought you enjoyed that last time."

I nod vehemently, covering my mouth with one hand and stifling a giggle before I slip the helmet on. When I then accept his hand, I try my best not to be too excited. Maybe this wish can still come true, I think as I take a seat behind him. Maybe we can ride together like this more now.

When I already sit comfortably, wrapping my arms around him for support, I process something else.

"Would you ever just use our given names?"

> "Will you ever offer me a first-name basis?"

Despite his quick re-composure, I detect that Akechi momentarily stiffens up. "I suppose I don't have any reason not to anymore," he says with a shrug, yet I am not fooled by his collected front.

I tighten my arms around him, leaning my head on his back as best I can with the helmet.

"How about we save it for special moments?"

> "You don't need a reason to say no."

"I don't mind sticking with last names either."

He turns back to me, and for an undefined time, he holds my gaze silently, then faces forward again, starting the engine. "You can use my name in private," he says, and I could swear I hear a faint smile in his voice. "I'm simply not enjoying the idea of it publicly."

I nod, just as Akechi pushes the throttle and we pick up speed. Does he find even something like his name too intimate to say in front of others? Does it make him feel too vulnerable? Maybe, I think, and hold him a little tighter, I can save it for exceptional moments.