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Goro tried not to indulge his kleptomaniac impulses. He had feared what would happen to his plans if he allowed them to become an addiction, turned the idea of possessing things into an itch that would torment him at the worst possible time. To that end, he limited himself: consumable items only, never from a store.
A barely-touched bottle of Akkeshi Boshu single malt whisky from the liquor cart in Shido’s office had met both criteria. He pulled the bottle from its hiding place under his sink and slammed its heavy base on his coffee table. Sumire gasped, Akira whistled. Goro smirked.
“That’s so much,” Sumire whispered.
“We can drain it.”
“We’re still underage—we could get brain damage!”
“No worse than what will happen if we fail tomorrow. We need to send off this dream world and have absolutely no regrets.”
Akira raised his hand and smirked at Goro. “Did you steal this one because it sounds like saying your name drunk?”
“You are an insufferable irritant. I can't wait to be rid of you.”
“Hang on, we should be reasonable about this. What’s the alcohol content by volume? I’ll compare it against our body weights, one moment—”
“Do you have the shot glasses?” Goro interrupted.
“Even better.” Akira opened his bag and retrieved three tiny white cups with handles, meant for espresso, pilfered from Leblanc.
“You two constantly enable each other! It’s ridiculous!” Sumire cried. “We have to stay hydrated! Half a glass every thirty minutes!” She jumped up from her cross-legged seat at the table and ran to the kitchen for a pitcher and larger drinking vessels.
“If we drink that much, we’ll need to piss constantly.”
“Then we’ll p—then that’s what we’ll do! Hydration will be the difference between a bad hangover and a terrible one.”
“C’mon, play along,” Akira encouraged, placing his elbows on the table while Goro removed the once-opened whisky’s replaced cork. “This is supposed to be a game.”
Goro said nothing and poured a splash of whisky into each espresso mug.
“We already think you’re cool. The upperclassman with booze. Can’t get any cooler.”
“Stop mocking me.”
“Stop being so mock-able.”
“Got it!” Sumire returned to the table with ‘hydration.’ Her fingers splayed like slender twigs on a winter tree to hold three glasses and two mugs in one trip. Her elbows pinched two mismatched bottles against her sides. The waters took their places in between the whisky and the tiny cups. “Okay, now I’m ready.”
“We are going to knock those over within the hour,” Goro complained.
Akira cut him off by slapping his open palms down on the table. Sumire gasped again.
“The rules,” he announced in the deepest voice he could muster. “Name something in Maruki’s reality you will miss. Take your shot. Fill the cup to the left. Play goes on until the bottle is dry.”
“I already filled the cups.”
“Dammit, Akechi broke the game. We can’t play now.” Akira returned to his normal voice and lounged back, one knee folded, arm draped across it.
“We can still play! Akechi-san was just trying to help—oh, you’re teasing him.”
Akira laughed. “Go first, Sumire.”
“Me? Are you sure?”
“Yep.”
Sumire took hold of her whisky. “I’m going to miss… no more muscle cramps the day after intense workouts!” Then she took a deep breath, opened her mouth, and splashed the liquor onto her tongue. She immediately coughed up her deep breath, wheezing, spluttering.
“Easy, easy!”
“Shit, don’t spit in the other cups!”
Sumire snatched a water bottle and drained enough water to balloon her cheeks, swishing it like she could wash out the inside of her mouth. Tears budded in her eyes as she gestured to Akira.
“I’m going to miss first-try medium-fine grind,” Akira said. He tossed back his shot and closed his mouth. He kept the alcohol back, even as his eye started to twitch.
“Is getting the grind right really so important?” Goro asked.
Akira’s eyes also dripped as he nodded.
“Senpai, remember to drink water.”
He followed her instruction and then waved a hand at Goro. He hesitated, staring at his cup for a moment. “I’m going to miss new airing episodes of Phoenix Ranger Neo Featherman.” Then he grabbed the cup and downed his shot.
“Are they any good?” Akira asked.
Goro swallowed, and when he answered, he sounded like his voice had lost a fight with a cheese grater. “They’re phenomenal.”
Akira and Sumire laughed, then spoke over each other: “Fill her—”
“Drink some—oh, sorry! Go first, Senpai.”
Akira smiled. “Drink some water.”
Goro drank, then picked up the whisky.
“Tiny amount for me, please!”
“Bzzt. Against the rules.”
“Don’t we want the game to last longer? That will be easier if we stretch the amount we have, or take breaks between drinking—oh, thank you!”
Goro had barely titled anything into Sumire’s cup. He replaced the bottle and ordered, “Now fucking drink already.”
“I’m going to miss fat free puddings! They really taste identical to the full-fat kind now. I don’t eat many desserts to keep my diet balanced, and to make sure they’re always special—something you eat all the time isn’t special—and controlling fat intake—”
Goro slammed a fist on the table. “If you won’t play, there’s no reason for you to be here! Now, drink!”
“Sorry! I—” Sumire held her nose before swallowing her next shot. “—Oh, it still burns! Why do adults enjoy this?!”
“Peer pressure,” Akira stated as Sumire washed her mouth again and filled his next shot. “Gonna miss good trains.”
“That’s too vague.”
“Not necessarily! I’ve noticed I’m never waiting longer than a minute or two for a train. And rush-hour crowds are much more manageable.”
Akira raised his glass to Sumire. “It’s been five weeks since anyone pushed me up against a train door.”
“Drink to it, then.”
He complied and took the shot. His fist landed hard on the table as an earthquake-strength shiver chased down his spine. Goro pushed his cup forward but had to wait a minute for Akira’s grip on the bottle to stop shaking before he filled it.
“I’m going to miss the pleasantly speedy download speeds on public wi-fi,” Goro declared.
“Is it actually faster than usual? If it is, it’s very subtle…”
Akira nodded while Goro poured the next shot.
“Wait, it’s my turn again? Already?!”
“Do your best, Sumire!”
“Oh, I—wait, Akechi-san, water! And you too, Senpai!”
“You’re so annoying…”
“You mean ‘caring.’ I won’t go until you drink some water.”
Goro chose a glass and drank. Then drank, and drank, and drank, until he completely drained it. In the stunned silence, he tossed the glass aside—plastic, but he hadn’t actually been sure when he threw it.
“…Holy shit, Akechi,” Akira said with a small, disbelieving laugh. It infected Goro quickly and made him giggle.
“Okay, fine, but I have to refill that.”
“I’ll get it. You drink.” Akira stood up and ruffled Sumire’s hair as he went by to retrieve the cup. Her face went red.
“I’m gonna m-miss… spices in stock, at the specialty store. They’ve always had whatever I needed since this all started.”
“Hear, hear!” Akira called over the spray of the sink as Sumire drank and gagged. He took a gulp from the newly replenished glass and returned to the table to find his next shot poured. “I’m gonna miss not getting headaches from the TV in my room.”
“Wait, that thing gives you headaches?” Sumire coughed past her whisky burn.
“Screen—flickers—” Akira choked out as he poured for Goro. “Go, Akkeshi.”
“Fuck you, so much,” Goro complained.
Akira winked at him. It was Sumire’s turn to giggle breathlessly.
“I’m going to miss my clean bathroom mirror.” Goro lifted his shot again, more automatic, mechanical.
“You don’t usually have a clean bathroom mirror?” Sumire asked. “Akechi-san, if you clean your mirror, then—it’ll be clean.”
“We don’t have to clean it here. Sink spray, toothbrush spittle, skin… skin stuff, mineral deposits from steam. None of it actually makes the mirror dirty.”
“You notice things like that?!”
“I’m a fucking detective! That wasn’t for nothing!”
Akira reached out to rub Goro’s shoulder. “It’s not, it’s not that. It’s not that. It’s okay. It’s ‘kay…”
Sumire missed the soothing session by staring at her glasses like they contained the secrets of the universe. “You’re right! These are clean! There’s usually—eyelashes and smudges! Senpai, let me check yours!”
“Wha—” Akira blinked hard as Sumire snatched his glasses off his face. Her elbow bumped the whisky as she retreated with her prize.
“Careful!”
“Aaaah!” Sumire dropped Akira’s glasses and reached out to clutch the wobbling bottle. “I’m sorry! Sorry! I didn’t mean to—”
Akira just laughed. “You should—you should see—your face—!”
“M-My face? What about my—” Sumire blinked hard as Goro started to laugh too. “What?! What is it?!”
“Your eyes bugged. You look like a—shit, what are they called…”
“What?”
“Squirrel, but tiny. With stupid wings”
“Sugar glider.”
“YES!” Goro roared. He pointed at Sumire and jostled the bottle anew. “A fucking—blushy sugar glider!”
One of Sumire’s hand slapped over her reddened cheek, like she could hide the flush. The other grabbed the bottle to steady it again. “I… I think we’re starting to…”
“Yep.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Yep.” Akira tapped the top of the whisky bottle. “Let Akechi pour. Your turn.”
“…Right,” Sumire said. The peer pressure weighed less than a feather and she caved all the same. “I’m impressed you knew he was talking about sugar gliders.”
Akira slid his glasses back onto his face and adjusted them with a smirk. “That’s cuz I’m a genius.”
Goro groaned, “You’re a mop that swallowed a trivia book,” which sent Sumire into convulsive giggles as he filled her cup again.
“What next?” Akira prompted when Goro swapped the pour bottle for a water glass.
“Um… I’ll miss creepy guys keeping their distance!”
“Ouch, yeah. We should all drink to that.”
Goro slapped at Akira’s hand. “Nuh-uh. We’re saying goodbye. Not… guzzling this down.”
“Right, right, sorry… set me up.”
Goro and Sumire complied, but once Akira had his shot in hand, he went quiet, staring at the golden liquid like it would blink first.
“…Metaverse,” Akira said at last, and he tossed the shot back.
In bemused unison, Sumire and Goro said together, “Whadehellyumean?”
“Gonna miss the Metaverse.”
“Right, the power…” Goro’s head fell back as he groaned, full-throated and yearning. “Shadows and cognitions… tear them apart…”
“No. That’s—whatever,” Akira insisted. “I’m gonna miss how it feels to… be. There.”
Sumire turned her wondrous, searching stare on Akira. “How does it feel, for you?”
Akira opened and shut his mouth. He swallowed down the dryness. “It feels like… smooth?” he offered.
“Now who’s a genius,” Goro snipped.
“Alright, fine. It’s like being the river and being the water at the same time. I’m not a… person. I’m a force. I’m people. I’m all of me, together. The real world doesn’t feel like that.” Akira’s hand crawled toward a water-mug and dragged it closer.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Sumire asked.
He lifted the mug and sipped. “You were dealing with a lot.”
“Why didn’t you say anything to me?”
Akira rolled his eyes. “Goes double for you, Detective.”
“Senpai, we wanna know about you,” Sumire insisted. “We want you to trust us and—tell us stuff that you think—”
Akira shook his head and started to pour Goro’s next shot. “Talking is my… hm, twelfth favorite thing to do with my mouth.”
“What’s your favorite thing to—mfghph!”
Goro silenced Sumire with his hand over her mouth. “It’s a set-up! Don’t fall for it!”
Akira let his tongue roll out, framed between two fingers flashing a peace sign. It took Sumire four seconds to recognize the gesture and shriek into Goro’s hand, eyes even wider, face even redder.
“For fuck’s sake, Sumire, I have neighbors!”
Sumire choked the rest of her scream and turned her bug-eyed surprise on Goro. He tentatively released her mouth, and she squeaked, “You called me Sumire?”
“Whisky.” Akira nudged his espresso mug closer to him. Goro took a breath in and out. “I’m going to miss Sae-san.”
“Makoto-snen—semnpai’s sister?”
“She’s important to you?”
Goro nodded and tossed back his shot. He grimaced and shook his head as he swallowed. “She’s different now, but—not like the others. Considering the—the evidence, that—she’s…” His cup spun in his fingers. “You did a good job on her heart.”
“We all did.” Akira waved at the table and narrowly missed the Akkeshi.
“I didn’t do anything, not really—”
“You saved me.”
“Boooo.” Goro glared sullenly at Akira. “Should’ve let him die.”
“You were literally gonna shoot me after.”
“Sumire could’ve saved me the trip.”
“I’m worth it.” Akira winked at Goro, and pointed at Sumire’s cup.
Her eyes went sugar-glider wide as she stared at her next shot. “I’m… having trouble thinking of things…”
“Don’t overthink it. Anything works.”
“I’m gonna miss… um… the… the way my parents smile. They don’t remember Kasumi, so they’re not—sad anymore.”
Akira reached his hand across the table to take hold of Sumire’s. She gripped it tight as she drank her shot.
“Shit, that’s your idea of ‘not overthinking?’” Goro said.
Sumire looked down at the table. “I know. I’m… horrible, aren’t I?”
Akira opened his mouth, but Goro beat him to it. “What, for wanting your parents to be happy? No kid wants miserable parents. That’s not wrong. What’s wrong is—this. Maruki.”
Akira nodded along as Goro, red-faced and misty-eyed, pushed a water bottle across the table to Sumire. She met his eyes and accepted the bottle a second later. “…Senpai’s next.”
He nodded again and waited for his cup to fill. “I’m gonna miss not getting stared at, at school.”
“That was still happening so late in the year?!”
“Reasons changed, but… yeah. Stares. Hate ‘em.”
Goro tapped an impatient finger on the table. “Fill. Now.” Akira rolled his eyes and obeyed, the bottle barely tipping away from the cup before Goro snatched it up. “I’m gonna miss not getting stared at everywhere.”
“You too?!” Sumire gasped while Akira challenged, “But you’re an attention whore.”
“I’ll kill you.”
“Sumire, save me~!”
“Hang on, I—I mean, calm down! Here, have some more!” Sumire poured Akechi’s next cup.
“The order!” Akira wailed, ignored, as Sumire noticed the weight of the bottle had changed.
“Ah, it’s… half-empty now.” She swirled the amber liquid and watched it form a whirlpool cone.
“Half-full,” Akira corrected.
“Half-empty,” Goro repeated. “We’re going back to half-empty.”
“I s’pose we are,” Sumire set the bottle down. “Let’s… take a break. Hystrate.”
“Hydrate,” Akira and Goro corrected in unison.
“Screw you both!” Sumire clapped a hand to her mouth too late. Her seniors gawked at her foul language, dazzled and delighted.
“Are you busy after this?” Akira asked.
“No, I—N-No. Why?”
He stuck his tongue out again and wiggled it.
“You pervert! Akechi-san, stop him!” Sumire dove to the protective shelter of Goro’s back without a single scrap of her signature grace: knees stuttery, hands thudding on the floor.
Goro turned on Akira with a snarl, “You lowlife scum—stop bullying girls!”
“What a hero~!” Akira drawled, leaning on the table and giving Goro a wink. “Want me to lick you first?”
“You drank all this whisky, how are you still thirsty?”
Akira picked up his cup and nearly sloshed it on its lazy path to his mouth. “I’m gonna miss how delicious you look, leaning over the pool table.”
Goro sneered at Akira as he drank, but Sumire popped up, braced on Goro’s shoulders like a princess peeking over the walls of the dragon’s keep. “It’s not your turn!”
“Hm?”
“It’s mine!”
“Shit…” Akira’s head fell on the table.
“Get the fuck up, we’re not done,” Goro groused. He scruffed Akira’s shirt and yanked him into a sitting position again. “Me, Sumire twice, then you, and keep going. Got it?”
“Why can you still think good?” Akira grumbled. “Drink harder.”
“I’m trying, okay?” Goro picked up his cup. “This’ll help. I’ll miss dogs being nice to me.”
Sumire fell back against him, hugging tighter than climbing ivy. “That’s so sad!”
“I don’t give a shit. I used to think they could sense my crimes, but that’s stupid.”
“No, it’s true! Dogs can sense guilt!”
“You believe in too many stuper—stit—superstutions. The more likely reason is they know a mongrel when they see one. They’re protecting their turf.”
“I bet puppies would be nice to you,” Sumire insisted. “If you were a puppy’s daddy… and you fed it and played with it, that dog would love you.”
“Or you gotta meet the right dog,” Akira added.
“Fuck you both, that’s not the point of the game.” Goro filled Sumire’s cup. “Go, two in a row.”
“Do I have to?”
“Yes! Bad ideas only!” Akira cheered.
Sumire whined, but reached over Goro’s shoulder to take her next shot without much more peer pressure. “Gonna miss… easy victories.”
“Too vague!” Goro snapped.
“I’m sorry, the room is just—it’s spinning, I just know I’m gonna miss—easy wins. Everything’s easy and I’m scared I’m gonna—regret when it gets hard again.”
“Don’t regret it. We can’t regret going back.”
“I can’t help it. Being strong isn’t easy for me. I’m not like you ’n Senpai.”
“You think this is easy for us?” Akira asked.
Sumire met his eyes and blinked—once, twice—before she reconsidered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You’re drunk,” Goro stated. “Don’t worry anyway. You’re adorable. Everyone’ll help you. They won’t be able to resist.”
“Is that why you help her?”
“…Drink again. Back on pattern. Here.”
“Ah, dammit.” Sumire pulled herself off Goro’s back, gangly and awkward to stare at her next cup. “Um… I… I don’t want to screw up again.”
“What about school? Something about school,” Akira prompted.
“Right! Um… I… I think the gossip is nicer now. Some girls in the gymnastics club spread really—bitchy rumors. That’s over now. I’ll miss people not tearing each other down.”
“Good one,” Akira praised as Sumire downed her shot. “Is it finally my turn?”
“It’s your fault for fucking up the order, asshole. Go.”
Akira stuck out his tongue—no wiggling this time—and braced for another shot. “I’m gonna miss overhearing good news.”
“Good news will still exist, don’t be dramatic.”
“Sure, but it’s constant now. If I forget why—it’s just nice. People are excited. I’m happy for them.”
“What if you eavesdrop on more people?” Sumire said.
Akira looked at her like she had hung the stars in the sky. “Sumire, you genius.”
“Stop, you’re a menace! Both of you! Drink some water and sober up before you decide that!”
Sumire cried, a few decibels shy of another shriek: “We haven’t been drinking water! We’re gonna die!”
“Akechi, help us!” Akira rose onto his knees and tipped toward Goro, arms extended to ensnare him. Sumire followed suit and stumbled closer to him too, glass of water in hand.
“You pieces of shit, what the hell?!”
“Get him water! Water!”
“Don’t pour it on me—!”
A scuffle resulted with absolutely no winners, excitement and ineptitude dragging the three of them into a heap of drunk and overheated bodies. Goro beat off Sumire’s attempts to tip a glass of water over his mouth by grabbing hold of Akira’s hand, offering his next shot. “We’re still playing, dammit! It’s my turn—let me—I wanna take my turn!”
“Go, go, Goro-san~!”
“Smack him!”
“Ow—! Sumire, you—you actually—”
The aggressing party giggled without penitence as she met Akira’s betrayed, scandalized stare. “I’m sorry! Sorry!”
Mollified by Sumire’s attack and Akira’s pouting, Goro sat back up and lifted his glass. “I’m going to miss three meals per day.”
“You didn’t have that before?” Sumire’s mood snapped from mirth to misery. “Why are you two going to miss such basic things?!”
“That’s just it! I did an experpiment!” Goro jabbed his finger at Sumire. “I tried to skip meals and Maruki wouldn’t let me!”
“He brought you lunches!?” Akira’s lip curled in disgust.
“I won a bento from a street giveaway, then some strangers had leftovers from a work party to pawn off on me—and once I made it to nine-thirty without dinner and my neighbor knocked on my door and said she’d made too much food! The world conspired to feed me!”
“Mr. Apple For Lunch… Hungry bastard…” Akira mumbled to himself.
“Goro-saaaan, why don’t you ask me for food?!” Sumire tugged on his sleeve. “I wanna feed you! Please! Pleeeeeease!”
“Stop it, stop—it’s not, I’m not—”
“Pleeeeeease!”
“Hey, hey!” Akira tapped on the table. “Sumire, you gotta drink first!”
“W-What?”
“Your turn! Feed Akkeshi after.”
Dazed and slow, Sumire accepted the coaxing back to her seat and watched Goro fill her next cup. “I… I feel dizzy.”
“So do I,” Akira agreed.
“R-Really dizzy.”
“Just like us. Come on. Drink.”
Sumire swallowed back fear and bile and picked up her cup again. “I’m gonna miss… chocolate. Valentine’s chocolate. For you.”
“Akira?” Goro said.
Sumire shook her head. “I’m… I’m really horrible…”
“Sumi, no, stop saying that,” Akira scooted around the table to hug her. “You’re not.”
“But I can’t—choose.”
“Don’t choose. It’s okay.”
Sumire raised a hand, vaguely at Goro. “You say that, but it’s not—s’not fair—”
“Goro? Whaddya say?” Akira rested his chin on Sumire’s shoulder as he batted his eyes at Goro. “Can we share Sumire’s chocolate?”
The alcohol-drenched flush on Goro’s face deepened. “I hate sweets.”
“I’ll make it bitter!” Sumire promised. “Super-duper bitter!”
Akira couldn’t disguise a nauseated gag, but he schooled it back. “Y-Yep. Super bitter. Sounds yummy. C’mon, Goro, can you say no to a cute sugar glider?”
Goro continued to stare in drunken wonderment. “…Morons.”
“What? Why?!” The flooding emotions in Sumire’s eyes spilled over onto her cheeks.
“No, I didn’t say—fuck, yes, I’ll share it—I’m just—you shouldn’t share it with me, but—”
“I want to! I want to, I want to, I wanna, I wanna, I wanna—”
“Get over here, you made her cry!”
“Sorry, sorry…”
Goro crawled around the table and wrapped himself around Sumire’s other side. His arms threaded between Akira’s to wrap her in a protective shell of a hug. She gripped their arms and sobbed onto their sleeves, maudlin and tender.
“Did I… ruin the game?” Sumire squeaked a while later.
“You can’t ruin anything,” Akira vowed.
“Drink some water,” Goro told her.
While Sumire’s hand creeped out of her hug-cocoon to find the nearest glass, Akira poured another shot for himself. He held it back until he watched Sumire take three good sips. Then he took a deep breath and said, “I’m going to miss trusting adults with my feelings.”
“Really? All—”
“Nope,” Akira interrupted. “No time for that. Go.”
“Fuck, too fast,” Goro complained as Akira sloshed more alcohol into his cup. “Fuck, fuck… I’m gonna miss…”
“Sumire clutched one of Goro’s arms, to stop him from leaning too far away from her.
“…Redemption.”
“Shit, what?” Akira blurted.
“I’m gonna miss being in a world where redemption is as easy as saying sorry.”
“You don’t show it good.”
“You don’t talk good.”
“Got me…” Akira rubbed Sumire’s back. “Your turn again. Something you’ll miss.”
Sumire blinked her weepy eyes at the bottle as Akira set it down. “Oh my god—there’s nothing left!”
“Almost nothing, we’ve got—”
“I wanna stop playing! We’re gonna kill this poor whisky bottle!”
“The point is to kill it!” Goro snapped, but that just drove Sumire to cry harder.
“When we’re done, we’re gonna throw this bottle away—it’ll be all alone in the garbage! I don’t wanna do that! It’s too beautiful, I wanna keep it! I’ll keep it forever!”
“Wait, you’re… gonna miss the bottle?” Akira asked.
“Uh-huh!”
“Well, drink to that.”
Sumire batted weakly at Akira’s hands and failed to stop him from pouring her next shot out of the bottle’s dregs. Goro reached out and brushed some of her hair away from her face, over her shoulder, behind one ear.
“Bottle’s not sad,” he murmured to her. “S’not sad. Not after tonight. Promise.”
“P-Promise?”
“Mm. It’s happy you love it. It just can’t tell you so, cuz it’s a bottle.”
Sumire nodded, accepting this truth. Akira placed the whisky cup in her hand. On reflex, she tilted it back, completely numb to the flavor. Rather than pour again, she leaned more of her body weight against Goro and closed her eyes. He combed his fingers through her hair, long auburn strands falling through his hand like waterfalls, over and over. Akira watched them.
No one said anything for a while.
Then Sumire mumbled something against Goro’s shoulder. He blinked and noticed Akira staring. “What?”
“Nothin’.”
“Your turn.”
“Do we have to?”
“Bottle’s not empty yet.”
With a sigh, Akira poured two more shots: one for himself, one for Goro. He couldn’t quite kill the bottle, even by over-pouring the next two cups. Sumire managed to rouse herself and watched Akira lift his next shot.
“I’ll miss freedom.” And he tossed it back. Sumire hiccuped and Goro frowned.
“I’m sorry.”
“Eh.”
“It should be me.”
“But it’s not.” Akira fixed him with a stare, cloudy but somehow clear. “I’m ready for reality. Are you?”
Goro’s head tilted dangerously as he tried to sit up. “I need… Space. Sumire, move.”
Ignoring her whimper of protest, Akira moved Sumire into his arms. Goro pulled his shot closer.
“I’ll miss… the way people are now.”
Sumire nodded, then a second later, stopped nodding. “I don’t get it.”
“Yeah, what?”
“Maruki sees people different. I’m gonna miss it.”
“He sees them as dolls.”
Goro pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “No, that’s different. The sack-a-rinn whimsy. I won’t miss that.”
“Whimsy,” Akira echoed. “Whimsy, whimsy… Whimsy…”
“What’s different is the way they are. The attitude. Approach.”
“People approach you?” Sumire asked slowly.
“They aren’t like before. Hateful, selfish… backstabbers. Fuckers. People aren’t like that anymore.”
“You need to meet better people,” Akira told him, with a dry and disbelieving laugh.
Frustrated, Goro tried to straighten his spine. He took a deep breath and willed his thoughts into order—any order, hopefully the right order. “You don’t get it! Of course I des-test everything—all of it, I don’t want anyone to do this world! And Maruki’s heart is—it’s fucking bleeding, it’s gross, and he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, you can’t therapy a whole society, so of course it’s all going fucking pear-shaped. But this game is about the regrets, and I can feel the differents! Difference. Difference. The way everyone just is. Maruki’s doing something terrible but it looks like love, and the way it makes everyone love each other, there’s love, and there wasn’t love anywhere else I’ve been until I was here, and I know nobody thinks I have a soul anymore but I’m gonna… gonna miss it. Gonna miss humanity that loves.”
“Akkeshi…” Akira slurred with an affectionate twinge in his voice. “I still don’t get it.”
“It’s beautiful, though. You talk so beautiful,” Sumire tried to compliment.
Goro sighed. “Whatever. To hell with it.” And he tipped his head back, poured his shot down his throat, into the churning mess of his stomach, and he kept tipping backward, backward, further—
Voices swirled about in an unintelligible slurry as his vision faded, first at the edges, then to black. The concoction of alcohol and acid lurched inside him and left his head pounding and senses spinning, the floor and ceiling inverting as Goro tried to keep breathing. He should have drank more water. He shouldn’t have let it get this far. He shouldn’t have made so many mistakes. But as the darkness wobbled and twisted behind his eyes, he knew none of those mistakes mattered anymore. The world will be as it should, and he accepted that. He accepted it all.
“…I’m going to miss him, Senpai.”
“Me too. So much.”