Akira's voice grew weaker and weaker, her body unconsciously leaning against Akuto.
She nuzzled like a kitten, found a comfortable angle, and slowly closed her eyes.
Outside the window, the rain was endless.
The silent television kept playing, its glow flickering across Akira's face.
It made the moment feel so warm. Yet Akuto's gaze didn't waver; he tilted his head and drained the liquor in his hand, then spread his arms and slouched back on the sofa.
"Human life is truly fragile and pitiful."
"Once a person gains endless life, no matter how thick the haze ahead, time will always reveal the path forward."
"But knowing everything only breeds boundless emptiness."
He lit a cigarette and exhaled a long stream of smoke. "What exactly is the right choice?"
"To be chained for life by a hollow ideal, and to die believing you've achieved something of worth?"
"Or to spend an eternity learning every truth, then sit back and watch as time exposes and buries it all, before the next cycle begins?"
Akuto glanced at Akira, tears still glistening at the corners of her eyes; her profile remained flawless. "The ideals and pursuits you speak of are merely illusions crafted for you by others."
"The only truth is the death of your loved ones."
"So I cannot admire your ideals, nor can I affirm the value of your life."
"A life that is manipulated has no worth."
Akira had spent her whole life seeking revenge, dreaming of eradicating the Ghouls.
Yet such a life was destined to be empty.
The so-called elimination of Ghouls was a trap set by the Ghouls themselves.
Almost all the Higher-Ups of the CCG were Ghouls; they used humans to cull their own numbers and keep the balance between the two sides.
They treated the humans who died as food.
They pulled the strings of others' lives and sat back to watch both sides fight.
And Akira was a negligible pawn in this game, a plaything.
A microcosm.
Looking back at their interactions during this period,
Akuto realized that what Akira truly wanted was an ordinary life—going to work, coming home, three meals a day.
The rupture between the two extremes was why Akuto couldn't accept the ideal she displayed.
Because her real ideal was the latter.
By comparison, Akuto admired Eto Yoshimura more.
The madness of casting one's own life aside, recklessly and ruthlessly pursuing a personal dream.
He checked the sky outside, stubbed out his cigarette, lifted Akira, and laid her on the sofa.
At the moment, Akira's face was flushed, her hair tousled. Her white T-shirt had ridden up, exposing her fair, flat stomach.
Below, red shorts; her long, pale legs were slightly bent, knees pressed together.
She looked downright criminal.
Akuto tossed a blanket over her, turned, and went back to his room.
The moment the door shut, in the darkness, Akira's eyes opened a fraction.
Still a little dazed, but mostly as calm as a deep pool.
The next day, Akuto opened his eyes and looked expressionlessly at Akira beside him.
Akira's cheeks reddened; then her gaze suddenly turned cold, feigning fierceness. "Why are you in my bed? What did you do to me?"
A textbook case of turning the tables.
"Turning the tables—is this your idea of humor?" Akuto couldn't help laughing.
He'd gone to bed early last night and slept straight through till morning; nothing had happened.
"Who's turning the tables!" Akira shot back at once, voice rising half an octave, sounding even more guilty.
"This is clearly my room... no, wait!"
She looked around, finally realizing it was Akuto's bedroom, and choked, cheeks burning hotter, but still stubborn.
"Even if it's your bed, you shouldn't have let me sleep here! You did it on purpose!" Akira cursed herself a thousand times in her heart.
How had she drunk so much last night? Said so much nonsense, and actually ended up sleeping in his bed!
Perfect—she hadn't gained the upper hand and had handed him leverage on a platter.
Chin propped on his hand, Akuto watched her, tone teasing.
"Oh? Then who was hugging my arm last night saying 'I hate you the most~' and finally falling asleep on me?"
He imitated her soft, coy tone from the night before, and Akira nearly jumped in anger.
"I did not!"
She denied stiffly, eyes reddening—not from grievance but from shame.
"You're talking nonsense! I'd never do something like that!" Her clenched fist lightly thumped the mattress, lacking strength, more a coquettish gesture than an angry one.
Akuto watched her contradictory display, smile deepening, but didn't expose her further.
"Your clothes are in the dryer."
Akira scrambled up and stalked out without looking back, voice muffled, "Got it!"
She yanked the door open and bolted for the bathroom, tossing back a stiff warning.
"Next time you try anything when I'm drunk, I won't let you off!"
The instant the bathroom door closed, she slid down against it, burying her burning face in her hands, mind a mess.
She remembered everything about sneaking into Akuto's room last night.
Including what she'd been thinking at that moment.
She remembered it all.
When Akuto said her life was being manipulated, a fierce resentment had surged inside her.
But she had no grounds to ask Akuto for help.
Slipping into his bed was the best plan she could come up with. In the end, she'd struggled half the night and then fallen asleep.
Fortunately, Akuto didn't keep pressing the issue.
After breakfast, Akira noticed Akuto was also dressed to go out.
"You're heading out too?"
"Mm, going to meet some good friends." With that, Akuto walked out the door, leaving Akira standing there in confusion.
What did he mean, "Meet some good friends?"
She wasn't going to get an answer; their paths were different.
Akuto drove, phone in hand, searching for his destination.
Ghouls weren't easy to find; they were all in hiding. One could only look for fixed spawn points.
"Like this place." He parked, looked up at the cyber-punk GG sign, climbed the narrow, cramped stairs, and pushed the door open.
For a moment, the three people inside and Akuto all froze.
"Well, fancy meeting you here."
Kaneki Ken and Kirishima Touka inside stared at Akuto in shock.
"Why do you turn up everywhere?" Touka rolled her eyes.
Today she wore a gray sweater with shorts, red thigh-highs and short boots on her legs.
"Hey Touka, what are you wearing?"
Akuto took two disgusted steps back.
"Sausages?"
A flustered look flashed across Touka's face; she glanced down and frowned. "Don't point and judge, you rude jerk!"
"It's hideous, Touka."
"Burn those socks when you get home."
Touka's cheeks reddened; she lowered her head and hurried to the restroom.
Only then did Akuto turn to Kaneki Ken, the manager, and the shop itself.
It was a mask shop, basically open to Ghouls, though an occasional human might drop by.
The manager was covered in tattoos and looked decidedly non-mainstream.
"Kaneki, do you guys know this handsome fellow?" Uta tilted his head curiously at Akuto, not even bothering to hide his kakugan.
"This guy's tattoos have real taste."