“We used to be something more than colleagues,” Rei says, pulling the chair out sharply and sitting down. There’s a triangular metal bar above the bed – a lift, Rei realises – and a wheelchair in the corner where Akai can reach it. The head of the bed is propped up at a near 90 degree angle, allowing him to sit up. Just marches into Akai’s room, closes the door, and says, “We have to talk.”Īkai’s in bed listening to something on his phone again. But Rei thrives on spontaneity it’s what’s kept him alive this long. He wonders if he should have prepared more, should have thought out his strategy, should have made a plan. He arrives at the hospital after the short drive, parking in the visitor parking and heading upstairs to Akai’s floor. Ignores the emails and the phone calls and walks away from his desk. So at 2pm when he can’t take it any more, he simply ups and leaves. Need to come head to head and sort out what’s owed and to whom. But he finds as the hours tick by that he’s growing more and more fidgety, more anxious with anticipation. ***He intends the next day to spend the day at work and visit Akai in the evening, as was his former habit. They have to end this before even more damage is done. Miyano Shiho was right about one thing: right now, neither of them is happy with the situation. He misses the days when things were simple. Rei pulls up at a red light and rests his head on the wheel. In giving himself over to vengeance, he’s damaged himself fiercely. He’s spent so long hating with such ferocious intensity that it’s eroded his memories of what it was like to have friends. The reality is, there’s very little he hasn’t blamed on Akai at one time or another. He wonders whether he blames Akai for not just his best friend’s death but also the end of what remained of his innocence, his ability to have faith in others. Since then he’s made allies, but no friends. Ended his ability to trust, his desire to trust. It’s not news, he thinks now as he drives beneath the streetlights, that that’s what really blew his whole world apart. That is, until Scotch’s death scorched everything. Starting to remember a nascent desire for more. Starting to remember the respect he had had for the sniper, and the simple pleasure he took from their rough but solid relationship. He’s starting to remember those days now, the more time he spends with Akai. They had been close enough that, once upon a time, he had envied Rye’s relationship with Akemi.
He didn’t used to have trouble forming bonds and making friends – with Wataru, with Jinpei, with Hiromitsu. But it isn’t the truth – or not the whole of it.
Part of him wants to answer that he’s so alone because Scotch is dead, and they all know whose fault that is.
The question echoes in his head as Rei drives home that night.
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