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The Port Mafia office was unusually quiet that evening. Gin Akutagawa sat slouched against the edge of the locker room bench, the fluorescent lights humming softly above her. Her hands fidgeted with the edges of her sleeve as she stared blankly at the cracked tiles underfoot.
It had been building for months—this gnawing curiosity, this confusion. She had told herself countless times it was just admiration, a fleeting crush that didn’t mean anything. But every time Higuchi smiled at her, her heart betrayed her, doing little somersaults she didn’t want to acknowledge.
And now, tonight, the weight of it was suffocating.
“Gin?”
The voice was soft, cautious, almost unfamiliar in its gentleness. She glanced up to see Akutagawa leaning against the doorframe, his black coat hanging loosely, eyes sharp but not accusatory.
“Yeah?” Her voice sounded smaller than she expected, like someone else’s.
He stepped closer, the click of his shoes against the floor echoing in the near-empty room. “You’ve been… distracted lately.”
Gin laughed nervously, trying to mask the panic she felt creeping up her throat. “Distracted? Maybe. Busy, maybe.”
Akutagawa raised a brow, crossing his arms. “You’re lying.”
The bluntness of it made her stomach drop. She had always thought she could hide it. Not from anyone. Certainly not from him. But here he was, looking right through her, like he could see every corner of her mind.
Her hands clenched into fists on her lap. “It’s… It’s nothing. Just… stupid thoughts. Don’t worry about it.”
Akutagawa’s expression softened slightly. “Gin. Look at me.”
Her eyes flicked up reluctantly, meeting his gaze. There was an odd mixture of understanding and… amusement? No, not amusement. Interest. That made her chest tighten in a way she didn’t like.
“I… think… I’m—” she began, voice trembling. “I think I’m… I’m… gay. I mean… maybe. I like women.” The words felt foreign as they left her mouth, heavy and dangerous. She swallowed hard. “I mean… I shouldn’t, right? It’s wrong… not wrong, I don’t—” She broke off, frustrated at her own stammering. “It’s just… I like… Higuchi. And I… I hate that I… like her.”
Akutagawa tilted his head slightly, silent, letting her tumble through the confession. Gin felt herself unravelling under the weight of her own voice. “I… I can’t… I don’t know. I shouldn’t feel this way. It’s—ugh. It’s stupid.”
And then, surprisingly, Akutagawa’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk. Not cruel, not mocking, just a line that somehow calmed her slightly.
“You’re not wrong,” he said simply. “I… I get it more than you think.”
Gin blinked, confused. “Huh?”
Akutagawa stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I think I… like men. Maybe. I don’t know exactly. But… I have feelings for someone. Atsushi.”
Her heart skipped in that surreal way it always did when she was nervous, except now it wasn’t her own feelings that were doing it—it was hearing someone else admit something she had been so afraid of saying aloud.
“You… like… Atsushi?” Gin whispered, voice barely audible.
“Yes,” Akutagawa replied flatly, but his eyes held a vulnerability that made her blink. “I don’t… talk about it. I don’t… want anyone to know. But… it’s true. I like him.”
Gin’s chest tightened in a mixture of relief and panic. Relief, because she wasn’t alone. Panic, because now the floodgates had opened, and she had no way to close them. She felt raw, exposed, and yet… strangely lighter.
“I… you… you get it?” she murmured, almost to herself.
“I get it,” Akutagawa said, voice quiet but firm. “And you… you’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to like who you like. It’s not a crime. And… it doesn’t make you broken or wrong.”
Gin’s eyes welled up, but she didn’t let them fall. Instead, she laughed softly, a mixture of disbelief and release. “I thought… I thought I was the only one. I thought everyone would think I was… messed up.”
Akutagawa shook his head. “No. You’re not the only one. And you’re not… messed up. Feeling something doesn’t define your worth, Gin. Just… being honest with yourself does.”
For the first time in months, maybe years, Gin felt like she could breathe without the weight pressing on her chest. She was scared, yes. She was still uncertain. But she wasn’t alone.
And perhaps, just perhaps, that made all the difference.
They stayed there in silence, the hum of the lights above the only sound between them, both processing the confessions they had long buried. And in that quiet, Gin felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: hope
The next day, Gin couldn’t focus on anything. Every time she thought about work, her mind drifted to Higuchi—her smile, the way her laugh sounded like something soft and warm in the middle of a cold, noisy world, the subtle tilt of her head when she concentrated.
Gin had always told herself to suppress these feelings, to shove them so deep inside that no one, not even herself, could reach them. But after talking to Akutagawa, a strange clarity had settled in. She realized that denying it only made her heart ache more.
She found herself wandering the storage corridors again, the same ones where Higuchi often worked late. Gin’s palms were sweaty, her stomach tight, but her legs moved almost of their own accord.
Higuchi was there, sorting through crates, humming softly to herself. Gin froze in the doorway, heart hammering.
“Hey,” Gin said, her voice shaking more than she wanted.
Higuchi looked up, a smile spreading across her face when she saw Gin. “Gin! You’re here early.”
Gin swallowed, trying to steady her racing heart. “Yeah… um… I—can we talk?”
Higuchi tilted her head, sensing the seriousness behind Gin’s words. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”
Gin took a deep breath, the words catching in her throat. “It’s… it’s about me. About… how I feel.”
Higuchi’s smile softened, and she stepped a little closer. “You can tell me anything, Gin.”
Gin’s heart raced faster. Her hands fidgeted, twisting the hem of her sleeve. “I… I like you. I like you more than I… should, maybe. I’ve been trying not to feel this way, but I can’t. I… I like you, Higuchi.”
The words were heavy, raw, and real. Gin felt exposed, vulnerable, as if she had just ripped her chest open and revealed the softest, most fragile part of herself.
Higuchi’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and warmth crossing her features. She stepped closer, closing the distance between them, her hand gently brushing Gin’s.
“You… really like me?” Higuchi whispered, voice tender.
Gin nodded, unable to form words beyond a small, shaky “Yes.”
Higuchi’s hand cupped Gin’s cheek, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. The hum of the fluorescent lights, the distant clatter of crates, the air itself—all of it faded away, leaving only the two of them, heartbeats echoing in sync.
Then, softly, carefully, Higuchi leaned in. Her lips brushed against Gin’s in a kiss that was both tentative and full of meaning—a confirmation of feelings long denied, a promise of something new.
Gin froze for a heartbeat, the kiss sending a shiver through her. Then she leaned in, matching Higuchi’s movements, pouring all the bottled-up emotion—the longing, the fear, the hope—into that single, shared moment.
When they finally parted, Gin’s forehead rested against Higuchi’s, both of them breathing hard, smiles tugging at their lips.
“I… I was so scared to tell you,” Gin admitted, voice trembling but relieved.
Higuchi chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind Gin’s ear. “You don’t have to be scared anymore. I like you too, Gin.”
Gin’s chest tightened—not with fear this time, but with a happiness she had never dared to imagine. The weight she had carried for months, maybe years, began to lift, replaced by warmth and a thrilling sense of possibility.
For the first time, Gin felt… free.