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The morning after Sojiro asked him to stay, Akira woke up in an unfamiliar bed. It took him longer than he’d care to admit to identify the bed as the Sakuras’ couch. He was more used to waking up on unfamiliar beds than he’d like to be, but a couch was new. The couch was, actually, a lot more comfortable than the cots he’d grown used to waking up on. There was a coffee smell from the kitchen, which was familiar, but something about it was off, and as he realized that Sojiro probably used a different blend of beans at home than at work. Realizing that he knew that smell well enough to tell the difference was enough to make him cry again, and he took a minute to blink through the tears and let the emotions wash over him while he lay there.
A hail of footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of Futaba, who crouched next to the couch in her pajamas, peeking through her bangs and glasses at his open eyes. “Hi.”
He smiled, shifting to sit up a little straighter in the couch. “Hey. Did you sleep good?”
“Fine. Better with you back. Sojiro went to Leblanc to open up, but he left coffee in the kitchen.”
He nodded, rubbing at his eyes to clear the tears as he sat up and shoved his glasses onto his nose. “Thanks. Do you want some?”
If she noticed his crying, she didn’t mention it. “No, I’m okay. I mean, I wasn’t up till midnight last night, so.”
He paused halfway to the kitchen, turning around to tilt his head. “You have the downstairs of your own house bugged?”
“Yeah, well, how else am I supposed to know what’s going on around here?”
“I mean, you could ask.”
She hesitated, shifting from foot to foot. “Does that mean you’re staying?”
He nodded, his stomach lurching fondly at her nervousness. “Do you want me to?”
“Of course I want you to.”
“Then if I can stay, I’m staying.”
She smiled at him and wiped a tear from her eye. “Good.”
He crossed the room to her and wrapped her in a hug, enjoying as always the way his shoulders came up to her head: the feeling that he could shield her from anything. “Let’s get coffee.”
In the kitchen, Akira sipped a mug and leaned against the sink while Futaba rifled through cabinets he didn’t yet know the layout of for some actual food. They settled on microwaving day-old rice from the fridge with fresh eggs and sat back down on the couch in front of the TV for lack of a dining table.
“Did you tell the others yet?”
“No. I’ll talk to them soon. Honestly, I could use a minute first with just the three of – well, four with Morgana, they already know.”
“Where are they?”
“Dunno. They probably followed him to Leblanc to get tuna, that’s where their food is. Anyway, I’d rather talk to people in person, so I’ll just tell everyone else the next time I see them.”
“Right, but you could also just summon them all over to the café with like an hour’s notice.”
“I could, but I try not to be a jackass about doing that if I can help it.”
She gestured with her chopsticks in acknowledgement and then stuffed some rice into her mouth, the conversation becoming quiet as they both chewed. The silence, as it went on, became more loaded, and he waited patiently for Futaba to say whatever was on her mind.
“Akira, can I ask you a question?”
He nodded. “Sure.”
“Are you okay?”
Oh, he thought. “I’m… yeah, I’m okay. I mean, it wasn’t great, but I’m okay. It was only like a week. At least, the part that I actually remember was. I’m glad it wasn’t longer, but worse things have definitely happened.”
“Right, yeah. Except jail wasn’t really the thing I was asking if you were okay about? Like, I’m definitely glad that it wasn’t that bad, I’ve never been to jail but I kind of figured it was pretty bad – I mean I know you weren’t in jail jail but –I was asking if you were okay because we haven’t really talked since the palace collapsed.”
“Oh. Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s not really the first time that’s happened, right?”
She hesitated, biting her lip the way she did when she was searching for the words she wanted.
“Why didn’t you tell us about Akechi?”
His stomach, at ease for once, twisted quickly into a knot. Before his hands could curl in on themselves, he took a breath, letting it out slowly until the knot loosened. Futaba sat patiently watching him as he stared at the wall and thought about Goro Akechi.
“Primarily, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know either until the night before we went in. He didn’t tell me. At that point… even if I had wanted to, which I didn’t, it was too late to change our minds. Telling everyone when we were going into what we were going into… it’s a bad excuse, but I didn’t want you to be distracted if you didn’t have to be.” He paused for a second, looking back in her direction. “Believe me when I say I was distracted enough for the seven of us.”
She shuffled in place on the couch, inching closer so she could lean on his shoulder. “Sorry.”
He scowled. “Don’t… please don’t apologize. He’s the one who decided it wasn’t worth mentioning. Besides, he’s not worth the effort it takes to miss him.”
“It wasn’t really an apology-I’m-sorry, it was a that-sucks-I’m-sorry. But you know I wouldn’t be mad if you did miss him.”
He sighed. “I do. Because I know that you’re incredible. But I mean what I said. He killed your mom, and he almost killed me – all of us, actually. Even if he was hurt too – even though we all felt bad about what happened, that doesn’t erase that. I’ll grant that it’s complicated. But maybe I’m tired of having a complicated relationship with a serial killer.”
“Yeah, that sounds pretty exhausting.”
“It is.” He paused for a second, letting the instinct to correct that sting. “Was.”
She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes magnified below her glasses, and put her bowl of rice on the table next to them. “Is there something else you’re not telling me?”
He wasn’t really surprised that she could see through him like that, but it shook him anyway, and that must have shown too because she looked chagrined instantly.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“Yeah.” He said. “But I think I want to. Only… you know how I said that it’s complicated? Because it’s really, really complicated.”
She paused for another second as if to think. “Well. Can I finish my breakfast first, then?”
For a few minutes, the both of them ate their food in silence as she thought about what he was going to say next. He set down his bowl when he reached an answer and leaned back on the couch, exhaling slowly.
“After New Year’s. When I saw what had happened, and you guys didn’t. I’ve told you I’m not upset about that, and it’s true, but I was confused. Because something changed for everyone but me, and I was the one who’d spent the most time with Maruki out of anyone. I couldn’t figure out why it would be just me who could see through his facade. I mean, I thought maybe it was Lavenza, or my power, but it didn’t feel like Arsene, and when I got to talk to Lavenza again I knew it wasn’t her either. I thought about it that first whole week. I mean, I didn’t have anything else to do besides worry.” He hesitated, looking for any words he could use to make the next part sound any better and coming up dry. “I kept going over the things I’d said to Maruki, and I realized I’d never told him something that I wanted to be different. Because there was nothing I wanted to be different. Which is ridiculous, but it’s true - I had you all, and I had power, and a purpose. I had everything I’d ever wanted. So I decided that the reason that nothing changed for me was that I didn’t want anything to change. And then the day before we went to go fight Maruki, I found out I was wrong, and the one thing that I wanted so bad that the universe changed around me to accommodate it was to bring the guy who tried his very hardest to murder me and all my friends to come back to life.”
She let him speak in silence, her expression consistent and concerned as she waited for the cascade of words to end. “And then it was too late.”
“And then it was too late.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I think I should be the one saying that to you.”
“Please don’t.” She smiled sadly. “It wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t help Haru either. I mean, if you wanna talk about things that sound ridiculous… the truth is, you probably didn’t do it alone. Bring him back, I mean. We all felt bad about how things ended, even she and I. We talked about it.”
He was surprised. “Really?”
“We talk when you’re not there, you know. Anyway, yeah. It… helped. With things being complicated. We agreed it was okay for us to feel that way. It was okay to feel bad for him without forgiving him or missing him. But I guess maybe we did. Miss him.”
He sighed. “Maybe. But I don’t really think that helps me. I do feel bad about missing him, but I feel worse about being so… clueless and self-centered. I mean, I know I have an ego, but acting like nothing changed for me because I was already perfect is something else.”
“I don’t think you were acting like that. I mean, you were kind of right, weren’t you? You’re going about it backwards, blaming yourself for changing what you did instead of thinking about all the things you didn’t change. Like your arrest record, or your parents. And then you fought tooth and nail to change it all back even though you knew it would get you arrested. Again. You deserve every bit of ego you have, Akira. Every time the universe ever knocked you down, you got back up again, and you dragged it with you while you were at it.”
The mention of his parents sent his heart back into his throat, and he took a deep breath for the dozenth time that morning, trying to keep his eyes dry. “You’re too nice to me.” He said quietly.
She took his hand, lowering her own volume in response. “No, you’re just being too mean to you. Which isn’t like you, but I get it. Anyway, my point is, your confidence is something we all like about you. And also, it’s… flattering, I guess.”
He looked confused. “What’s flattering?”
Futaba curled into herself the way she did when she was embarrassed. Her voice, somehow, got smaller. “That you always wanted to stay. That you thought that being with me and Sojiro was your perfect reality.”
The knot in his stomach loosened. Carefully, he brought a hand up to her face and tucked a lock of long hair behind her ear. “I do think that, though. All evidence to the contrary… I actually think it might be better without the complicated relationship with a serial killer, too.”
She laughed. He laughed back. And by the time their friends were over for coffee in the afternoon, hugging and smiling and talking about their plans, he didn’t even notice the hole in the room where Akechi used to sit.