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Haru did not use to believe in destiny.
She understands why, of course. For all the conflicting emotions she holds and few she displays, she does understand herself quite well. At least this part.
It stands to reason that an omniscient force controlling the outcome of her life would never have sat well in her mind. The power to enact change had in some ways always seemed too easy; a privilege of her upbringing and circumstance, the ways her father could change and influence outcomes gave her a narrative of working for goals. Coming from nothing to make something incredible, despite what others might think.
That was of course, a lie. It would take some time to find that out.
As would the realisation that any control she believed she had came at a price. Freedom in a gilded cage, barred and suffocating. Freedom to be the person others needed her to be. Anything outside of that was a loss of air.
Another actor pulling her strings was not something she needed.
That was of course, until she became a Phantom Thief. Until the world of gods and men who played with power became a reality she stood on the front lines for. Until she met Ren. Ren who changed her world, a conjunction of fate himself, chosen by beings and placed in their pathways to unite them all towards a different end, deflecting the course of their lives.
So perhaps, destiny is real, for better or for worse. Or perhaps it sits in the hands of the special few, like Ren. Who seems to be fated for so many things she loses count.
And, Haru thinks, perhaps he is too.
They fit together, Ren and Akechi. She has always thought so, always seen so. It didn’t surprise her to learn Akechi is alive, for it just seemed…apt he would live. She doesn’t know how she feels about it, but the fact they end up together sometime after that is another inevitability.
And as such, is this conversation that she’s walked into, followed a path towards. It has to have been written in the stars, that at some point, she’d need to confront Akechi.
Haru never liked him. She knew him vaguely before any of the others did, having seen him at a few balls and charity events as soon as his popularity soared. Haru exchanged words with him a handful of times, two people of the same age in the same circles which they didn’t really belong to.
He was so false it made her teeth hurt. No more than other celebrities she’s sure, but hindsight does things to the imagination, and she posits their issues began there. It’s easy to believe it.
What she knows, is she didn’t suspect his true nature. But then again, who would think a slightly arrogant teen with a prep school look would be a supernatural assassin? That was the point of it, after all.
At any rate, that threat united them back then, windingly navigating them to this point, on a Wednesday evening in Leblanc, in which she is too tired and too run down to bother with keeping her facade.
“You killed my father.”
She doesn’t remember what prompted it. Or how they became secluded from the others, as that’s something everyone seems to have been avoiding for some time. But Akechi’s mouth tips up, as if he’s been waiting, wanting this to occur, and she hates that even more than she hates this entire situation.
“Ah, so we’re back to that. Your father, the innocent victim of my corrupted deeds,” he drawls, putting down his drink to fully engage.
And if that’s his plan, she will not back down. “We changed his heart, and you murdered him, having watched us go through all that.”
“He is not,” Akechi says, clipped and precise, “the only person I was ordered to kill. Are you going to fixate on all of my victims?”
“You could have given him a chance to repent,” Haru barrels on, not allowing him to deflect.
Akechi throws his head back and laughs, a disgusting, cackling noise. She notices Ann turn in their direction, but focuses back on him as his voice calms. “Repent? You still tell yourself such fabrication, Okumura?”
He sighs as if she’s a child, tiresome and bothersome, her irritation bursting forth so brightly she digs her nails into her palms to ground herself. “As I’ve said before, your changes of hearts were forced. None of your victims ever came to their decisions naturally. Your father did not repent by his own means.”
“Maybe we did show him the path,” she counters, “but you destroyed any means of making reparations. Of making things better.”
“And what exactly, is the way he could have made things better? For all the workers who he drove to death? For all the people he ordered me to kill? Oh yes, your father was my most active client. I killed his petty competition for him, he couldn’t even run a business well enough,” Akechi scoffs.
Haru’s shaking. She can feel her breath rattling, her heart so fast and loud it might break again. But she’s already sunk into this, she can’t look away. And he, as ever, once he’s caught a thread, will not let go.
“Did you think if you changed his heart, he’d love you again? Not treat you like an object to sell and obey? Or perhaps, having seen how angry you really can be, maybe you’re just upset I got to pull the trigger and not you.”
She doesn’t even think. She punches him square in the face.
It’s not a hard punch. Isn’t meant to be. But it’s born from anger deeply rooted, the sum of all the things she considers in the deep of the dark, and that place has always had such power over her. In any event, Akechi goes sprawling into the wall, slamming backwards as if she’s hit much harder than she thought, or he’s much weaker than she assumed.
Absolute silence reigns.
Everyone is staring at them, as Akechi stays hunched over, hands over his nose. Haru feels a blush bloom, she so hates being the centre of attention in this way. She just about catches Sumire with her hands over her mouth in horror, Ren’s face blank in a terrible way, eyes darting between them. And Makoto frozen, staring at her.
The last breaks her composure, and without a word, she leaves.
It’s incredibly rude but considering she just punched Akechi, it’s the least terrible thing she’s done. The rage induced haze lasts until she’s almost out of Yongen before the guilt seeps in and her hand starts to ache.
“Haru!”
For a moment she imagines another voice, but turns to the reality of Ann running to catch up to her.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
Haru lets out a somewhat shocked laugh. “I don’t believe I’m the one you should be asking that.”
Ann shakes her head and wraps an arm around her shoulders. The touch soothes all her frayed ends instantly. “He clearly did something to upset you.”
“All the same, I shouldn’t be punching him for it.”
“True. But you know that. And Ryuji’s always said he wanted to, so you stole his thunder,” she says, a clear attempt at levity.
Haru tries to smile in return, but knows it’s wobbling. “I’m causing so many problems with the group.”
“Hey,” Ann says, pulling her closer. She’s glad the area is so quiet, they must look ridiculous. “We’re all your friends. And this was going to be hard. The fact you’re even trying is good. You aren’t causing any more problems than were bound to be there.”
She steers herself forward so Haru has to look into her kind eyes. “It’s not a breeze for any of us. I’m trying to be his friend, but it’s not…easy. He doesn’t make it easy. Ryuji’s staying away, Futaba’s coping in her own way but I know she’s struggling. Makoto’s always had issues with him, the only ones who seem to be connecting are Yusuke and Sumire. No one expects it to be instantly okay, especially not for you.”
“I went too far.”
“And so did he,” Ann reminds her.
Yes. Deliberate baiting on both their parts. “I’ve spoiled the evening, though.”
“Nope! And I’ve been itching to go to a bakery for the last two hours, so you’ve made mine. Crepes help everything.”
And for a few hours, they actually do.
Haru doesn’t avoid things per-say, but she needs time to work out what to do. How to rectify mistakes in a way that puts this to rest once and for all. She knows this has been brewing, but she didn’t realise how explosive it would be.
The person she is both hoping and dreading to speak to arrives at her apartment two days after the fateful evening, on her way back from class. The fact that Makoto remembers her schedule is enough to give her hope in an otherwise dismal series of events.
“I should have called, I’m sorry,” Makoto says as she rushes to make tea.
“No, silly, you’re always welcome,” she replies without thinking. Which could be both too much and not enough. It’s impossibly hard to tell nowadays.
Makoto seems thankful though, more at ease than she has been in their last few interactions. She sips her tea and takes a cookie before diving in. “I just wanted to see how you were doing after…”
“My altercation with Akechi?” Haru finishes on her behalf.
Makoto nods, waiting for her to speak. She takes her own sip, steeling herself. “I shouldn’t have behaved like that. Let him get under my skin. I’ll apologise to Ren for ruining the evening, I just need some space.”
“He has a habit of doing that. Knows exactly what to say to rile people up. I hoped he was done with that,” Makoto says, grimacing.
Makoto’s own issues with him stem from the fact her sister spent more time and energy on him than her. An entirely different perspective on Haru’s, refreshing but not companionable. Although his methodology seems universal, of course. She doesn’t want to compare their pain of experience as that gets them nowhere. Even if it does elevate her heart to have yet another person say her actions were at least not reprehensible.
“I didn’t help myself. Just lashed out,” she adds.
“You shouldn’t have to feel as if you’re about to snap around friends,” Makoto says, almost chidingly.
Haru falls quiet. It’s not companionable, not anymore. Another instance of emotions that ran away from her. It’s been two months since she unleashed her thoughts on a topic she knew to be sensitive even then, unable to stop before they both fell too deep.
You can love someone with your entire being and disagree too fundamentally to allow that love to take root.
“You still haven’t said how you’re feeling about it,” Makoto begins, not quite meeting her eye. “You never do, when it comes to Akechi. It…might help to express that.”
Express what? It’s obvious, simple: she hates him, he killed her father. He…hates her, probably, or seems to. Has made his contempt of her clear, a hereditary sinner.
Her stomach churns though; something about that isn’t quite correct. But it is still an obvious truth, of how emotions should go in these circumstances. It's the guiding principle of how she faces this, and why there is in many ways absolutely no point in talking about it.
Maybe you’re just upset I got to pull the trigger and not you.
“I’m fine. Embarrassed,” she says, putting down her cup with too much force, a banishment from his voice in her head.
Makoto is obviously disappointed by the answer, a pattern with her friends of late. Another errant thought she attempts to cast aside.
“How are your classes?” Haru says, desperate to stop thinking of him.
Thankfully, Makoto doesn’t seem phased by the abrupt change of topic. “Well, thank you. Although I am thinking of dropping one of my classes in favour of property law.”
“That’s not required by the police academy,” Haru says. As she knows these things.
Makoto’s mouth lifts in one corner. Her heart double beats. “No. It’s not.”
She doesn’t elaborate, switching to turn the question back on Haru. She manages answers, but all the while, questions clamour, loud and insistent. They follow her through the remains of her day too. Why now? Because of what Haru said? Because of something Ren said? Makoto is steadfast but not unmoveable, yet equally hasn’t so far been swayed by her friends and their argument. Does that even mean what Haru has assumed, that she’s considering a different career path?
And does that mean-
She shuts her thoughts down. It’s too much, this week is all too much. She can’t hold all these emotions, theories and concerns while holding herself in check. She wishes the world were kind enough to give her a reprieve.
She can see her father’s head office from her apartment. It will always be his, no matter if her own name resides on its title; that building, that entity, has never quite felt like hers. An inheritance that she was never destined for, one she’s fought harder than most would to keep ties to.
To what end, she doesn’t know quite yet. But letting go seemed wrong.
So now, in the dead of night, does living somewhere within its orbit. When Haru can’t sleep, she watches the world, and the world still contains residues of before. No matter where she goes, she can’t erase what’s occurred.
And she doesn’t want to, not really. When Maruki had transformed the world, part of her of course, had wished for that. But impossible wishes are meant to never come true, so she doesn’t regret their final battle.
Haru’s always wanted to live in reality, mainly as she’d been so sheltered from touching the world. And yet, as she sips a blend of chamomile and rose to hopefully give her a push towards slumber, an itch blooms under her skin.
As sometimes, some nights, all she wants to do is scream . To throw back her head and let everything out; the rot, fear and sadness that have accumulated for all the years, spilling out of her throat, tarring her pristine surfaces with their stain. Tear, and peel herself away until there’s nothing left to hurt or haunt.
She imagines burning it all down. The franchise, the offices, every single restaurant. She’d go on a pyro rampage, setting it aflame and watch the destruction reign before fleeing into nothingness. Her legacy reduced to nothing but ash, just how it should be.
There is beauty in destruction. She’s seen it, she’s created it by her own hand and with her friends. To do the same to her own life would be cathartic, rip it to ribbons and watch them soar away.
Haru Okumura would be no more, vanished into the night. Would anyone care? Would they celebrate the rightful ending of a family who ruined so many lives?
She puts the cup down in fear of breaking it.
Of course, it’s only fleeting. As in her heart of hearts, Haru knows none of that would help. You cannot run from who you are. She has to embrace it, understand it, and live with it.
Maybe, she wonders in a moment of hideous clarity, that is where she and Akechi differ.
She wants to prune the rot, carefully strip away the decay so the healthy parts can live on. Aching, fixing themselves, and building into something better. Weakness to triumph over the past and move to a future that still embraces what it was born of. There is always a seed of goodness inside to be cultivated. That’s what she’s always, has had to always, believe.
He leans towards ruin. He would rather burn it all down, show the blackened ends and scorch all the rot away, salting the earth so it could never dream of returning. Starting afresh, anew as he has done, unconnected with his own father and the demons of his past. Learning to live by not being the person of before.
Lately, it’s always cycling back to him. To that argument, those words they both shared. Haru’s always worried about disagreements between friends more than she probably should. She’s no expert at having or keeping them. Yet if this were, as she’s always stated, a disagreement with someone she deeply hates, it wouldn’t plague her.
If she truly believes there is good in everyone, she has to think there is good in him. Even if she doesn’t want to.
It takes her too long to meet Ren. She feels fragile, split open by the time she walks into Leblanc, empty as she’d hoped, Ren waiting for her with a kind smile she doesn’t deserve. She isn’t really ready for this conversation; she hasn’t planned what to say, and that makes her nervous. But it’s been over a week and she cannot keep avoiding it.
“I have a new blend, I thought you should be the first to try it,” Ren says as a greeting, as she slides into a seat on the counter.
“Thank you, I’d like that.”
He turns away, immediately starting the process of making coffee. He’s an expert by now, watching him piques her interest in having more of a hands on role in her cafe venture. Should she still decide when she’s finished university to do it.
Ren is her first friend. Ridiculous that it took her until she was eighteen to make one. Everyone who came before were either forced by connections and school needs, or specifically were interested in her standing and money.
She’s never felt so accepted than in this group, with these people. And she feels it fracturing beneath her feet already.
“Here. I added a little milk, it’s too dark a roast I think to have black. But let me know.”
Haru pulls herself out of the malaise which has been darkening her steps too much. Ren stays close as she takes a sip, losing herself in the beautiful sharp, yet smooth taste of the coffee.
“This is wonderful,” she says, lifting her eyes. “Very rich. I’d have it with something sweet.”
Ren nods, pleased but alert. “I think I know some cookies that would go well.”
She smiles, nodding as they settle into companionable quiet while they drink. The weight of her visit though starts to press in, until there’s no use delaying it any longer.
“I’m so sorry for how I acted last Wednesday. I shouldn’t have done that, and ruined the evening.”
It’s hard for her to spell out the exact event in front of Ren, but he nods slowly. “You didn’t ruin anything, Haru. And I’m not the one you need to apologise to.”
She winces; his tone is gentle but his words are exacting. The coffee churns unpleasantly with the guilt in her stomach, until Ren leans forward on the counter. “But Goro also owes you one. He told me what he said. That was more than out of line.”
It hurts to breathe for a moment; acknowledgement of both the wrongs she did and received still ache right now. The fact that Akechi and Ren have been talking about her, even in the context of an argument she jointly instigated, burns.
Haru doesn’t like being a force for disruption between people. Externally, of course, is a different matter. She fights against the idea she can’t rock the boat, too many years of being told quiet and penitent is the perfect girl. But even though, thanks to Ren and all her friends, she now has the courage to stand up and speak out on what matters to her and her values, rocking personal relationships with her actions makes anxiety flare.
She can feel her eyes stinging, tries to hold it back as everything twists and trembles. Haru’s not ashamed of crying, not really, but always solidifies the impression she’s weak and childish. At least, that’s what her father and others would say, and years of perspectives pushed upon her are hard to undo, no matter her own feelings.
So she swallows the tears, pushes everything down. “I hope I haven’t caused…issues for you both.”
It’s hard to stop the words sticking in her mouth, bitter and awkward. She has enough control to be able to meet Ren’s eyes though, who blinks twice confusion in his eyes.
“What are you-oh.”
Ren’s expression turns into a familiar, sharp edged glint, the moment of understanding occurring. Which is somewhat unsettling when it’s on her, especially as she feels she’s still trying to catch up. He rounds the counter before she can speak, standing before her.
“Haru,” he says, her name resounding so urgently that she turns her whole body to him. “You’re my friend. A good friend, and I already knew you and Goro had issues when we started dating.”
Ren smiles, a cautious thing. “I’m not choosing between you. So please do think or worry about that, okay? As it’s not going to happen.”
It’s so childish. She opens her mouth to deny it, to shake her head and laugh away Ren’s silly idea that she’d be cast aside.
But she can’t.
It feels so horrifyingly, exposingly immature to worry about friendship just because she didn’t like his boyfriend. But part of her has been churning over this for days; that ultimately, as she struggles to come to terms with their dynamic, that she’ll start to slip out of place.
She’s always felt somewhat on the edge. The last to join their established group, having less in common with them, always playing catch up on their conversations. Or at least, that’s how it feels. Haru has to remind herself of evidence otherwise, of the ways in which each one of them welcomes and appreciates her for who she is. It’s just harder, when everything else has been a struggle.
Having finally found her place, it seems so precarious, as if it may topple at any moment. She wonders how long it will take before she no longer thinks like that.
The emotion she’s been stifling rushes to the surface, and she chokes out something of a laugh as her eyes dampen. “Why do you always understand me so well?”
“Because you’re my friend. And if I’m honest…I’d worried slightly that you’d be the one to walk away, and I’d lose someone I care about.”
Ren looks just as out of place as she does, the nervous habit of fiddling with his hair back. So much so she stands, and wraps her arms around him. He returns the hug instantly, her mind lulling into calm. Everything is truly not as bad as it seems.
“Looks like we’ve both been worrying unnecessarily,” she says softly.
He rubs her back, then pulls away, his smile brighter. “Yeah. But I’m glad it is unnecessary. You know, you can always talk to me. If you’re worried.”
“Same to you. And I mean that,” she says; if anyone is liable to stew rather than speak, it’s Ren.
He nods, when the suddenness of the cheerful bell by the cafe door captures their attention. Haru turns, her eyes going wide as Akechi steps inside.
He too seems just as shocked as she is, eyes darting between them. “I can come back.”
Surprisingly, Haru finds her voice easily. “You don’t have to.”
The look of shock she receives is only just visible before his face switches back to blankness. “Very well.”
Stiffly, Akechi walks into the cafe, taking a seat at the booth nearest the door. She knows her presence is bothering him, he’ll never usually sit anywhere but at the counter. But then again, he could just be giving her space, if Ren’s indication of their conversations are anything to go by.
“I thought you had class,” Ren calls, moving away from her with a grin and a nod, setting up behind the counter to make coffee.
“It was cancelled, I came to do some reading,” Akechi replies.
It’s the most strained exchange she’s seen them have, but Ren doesn’t seem to mind. Haru just watches, slowly drinking the rest of her delicious coffee, noting how Akechi visibly unfurls as Ren kisses the top of his head.
She almost wants to laugh, it's so…odd. And yet predictable.
The atmosphere thaws relatively quickly. Haru is content to take another refill from Ren, musing in her own world. Ren does inventory, and Akechi truly seems to have reading to do, books out in a formation Haru recognises from her own university studies.
“I need to get groceries. I’ll be back.”
Ren’s voice makes her jerk, a sudden terror jolting through. She looks up, Ren’s gaze passing over her pointedly, before the same look is given to Akechi.
Ren may be a wonderful friend, but she forgets sometimes he’s utterly devious.
“Don’t break anything, Sojiro will never forgive me,” Ren says with a grin by the door, leaving before either of them have a chance to retort.
The atmosphere rockets, a storm descending, both of them so tense Haru feels as if she’s moments from evisceration. She understands why Ren’s done this, but she doesn’t know if she’s ready. If she’ll ever really be ready. Which makes it all the more reason to try, seeing as letting moments rumble led to their current standing.
So she seizes the opportunity, standing and marching over, sitting down opposite him before she can think better of it.
“Considering this was set up deliberately, we should probably…take the opportunity to talk,” she says.
“Ah yes, Ren’s a subtle little shit.”
He smiles though. She almost wants to smile with him, but so many things within her protest.
Akechi carefully closes each of his books one by one, a clear need for preparation. She doesn’t degrade him for it, this is hardly easy for her too. But Haru gets the feeling she needs to be one who begins.
“I’m sorry for punching you.”
He snorts, such an inelegant sound that it startles her, his gaze wry when he looks up. “Are you? I don’t think I would be if our positions were reversed.”
“We’re not the same people. And I am, if only for the fact I shouldn’t resort to physically harming someone who is trying to upset me.”
He laces his fingers together, nodding once. “I see. And I am…sorry too. For as you said, deliberately trying to upset you. Or more accurately, pushing your limits. It’s a bad habit.”
She wants to challenge, ask if he really is, but realises it’s not worth it. He seems genuine, at least for doing the action, although clearly not for his sentiments. “Thank you.”
“I have to say, you surprised me, I didn’t expect you to punch me. I thought you might slap me at most, although I just assumed you’d storm out.”
Haru grins. “I don’t slap.”
Akechi laughs again. “I admire that. I shouldn’t have underestimated you.”
That warms her more than it should. The air is clearer, easier to breathe although she is still on edge. She wonders if she’ll ever not be.
One step at a time.
“Although I shouldn’t have expressed my thoughts in such a way, those mostly, are what I think. I won’t apologise for them, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
He’s tense. But determined. Haru leans back in the booth, exhaling, that sinking dread of complex emotions washing over. “I don’t think it would help. You are…right. In some respects, as much as I don't want to think about it. My father was a terrible man. He did terrible things, including ordering others to die, and thinking it fair for a teenager to pull the trigger.”
He blanches. “Don’t pity me.”
She tips her head, frowning. “I wouldn’t call it that. But no matter how you may be trying to interpret your actions, it doesn’t change the fact you were used by adults. My father, and your own to name a few. Which isn’t absolution for you either.”
He looks like he’s about to speak but she holds up her hand. “In some ways, I almost envy you.”
Akechi looks stricken, so much that it makes her laugh. She doesn’t like the sound. “It would be so much easier, if my father had always been cruel. Or abusive, or neglectful. But he wasn’t. I have a childhood full of memories where he genuinely cared and loved me. And yet, as you so kindly put it, he treated me like an object to sell. Combining those is incredibly hard, and yes, it makes me blind at times.”
She swallows. He waits, and she appreciates that. “I will always stand by our actions as Phantom Thieves. And perhaps it’s childish, to have wished to be a catalyst that caused my father to see me as he once did. For him to acknowledge what he did, and repent, even if I pushed it. But that is how I feel. And I won’t run away from it.”
Akechi slowly nods, clearing his throat. “I’m not exactly one who can comment on wishing for a father’s acknowledgement, no matter the method.”
He sighs then, twisting his hands together. “You used to irritate me,” he says bluntly. “Hiding behind this good girl attitude, so spineless when you really are full of fight. You don’t need protection, or sweetness, or anything other than to be who you are. And yet you stop yourself. Apart from Ren, the only other person I wouldn’t be concerned about in a fight, is you. So to see you…waste that on deference made me want to push it until you cracked.”
Haru’s slightly stunned. That feels like acknowledgement, although through a lot of condemnation. “And how did you find pushing me?”
Akechi grins, a fierce look. “Not something I’ll do on a whim again.”
A smile comes, if strained. It falls quickly. “I can…understand your irritation. It’s hard to undo years of self-conditioning. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being nice, if I’m honest. But I can’t hide behind being obedient any longer.”
Akechi slowly nods, clearing his throat. “Another thing I can relate to. Although I’m not nice.”
This time, her smile is easy, mostly as the second statement can be so overturned; she’s sure if Ren were here, he’d do so. She doesn’t though. It strikes her that they are so similar; and it doesn’t bother her quite as much as it may have done before. But she’s not exactly sure she likes it either.
It’s easier to mistake this all for hatred. Easier to hide it under that guise. But this is better, even if it doesn’t fit neatly into any definition.
“This isn’t forgiveness.”
“I haven’t asked for that,” Akechi says sharply.
Haru feels the thorns, spitting poison as a protective stance. “You don’t get to decide on that,” she says slowly.
He looks as if he’s swallowed something particularly vile. She wonders how Ren deals with this, how they both cope with forgiveness and love given their respective pasts.
“Thank you,” she says. A closing and an acknowledgment.
He again nods. Then he tilts his head, a different, unfamiliar smile growing. “Did Niijima mention she’s switching classes?”
The sudden change in topic startles her so much she can feel her face flush at the memory. “What are you implying?”
Akechi cracks open a book. “Nothing whatsoever. Just that you, Sae and Ren seem to have finally opened her eyes to how flawed her future plans were. And she’s still trying to perfect that lavender cake recipe you gave her fucking years ago. So it might be a good time to show her how it’s done?”
Haru sits there, open-mouthed for what might be at least a minute over the fact that Goro Akechi seems to have become invested in her romantic life, when Ren returns, thankfully giving her an out.
He looks so entirely pleased with himself seeing them sitting there. She can absolutely understand how Akechi calls him a little shit, and almost giggles at the thought.
“Everything alright?” he says, looking between them.
Haru exchanges a look with Akechi. They’ve pruned some of the decaying pieces, the festering marks driving them both in the direction of pain. It’s a step, and a good one, even if the root of it all remains unchanged. Sometimes, you have to just see how things grow.
“I think it’s okay,” she replies, Akechi agreeing with a hum.
And that, for now, is more than enough.