You Were The Path I Chose | A Goro Akechi Romance

#SPECIAL: To (be) remember(ed)

... In which I, after Shido's change of heart, set out to speak to each of my friends about their true thoughts on the one who gave his life for this victory. Because their silence is slowly but surely driving me insane.

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"I even used people's lives as stepping stones in order to claim this country as my own ship . . . I am a true criminal who can be tried for any crime . . . and it still wouldn't be enough!"

I close the confession video, which I must have watched over ten times now even though it only just happened yesterday, as I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a strange and violent emotion. Putting my phone down, I curl onto my side and wrap my arms around myself. Once upon a time, I anticipated being here, in my room. I wanted to shut myself in and hide, but now that I've actually been doing it, it's dreadful. There is nothing . . . to do. To distract myself. I never thought I'd ever miss school, but now I'm anticipating going back soon.

"Hey Rin—Makoto and Haru are downstairs." Morgana leaps from the floor onto my bed and the windowsill. "They bring you class material. I hope you haven't forgotten that you'll be going back to school next week, now that Shido's heart changed . . ."

I sigh silently, then lift myself into a sitting position.

"Are you . . . ?" Morgana throws me a skeptical look, and, for what feels like the hundredth time, I barely stop myself from blurting out everything that's been swirling around in my mind like a tornado since the confession and the following celebration . . . All the emotions he's probably more aware of than I like to think, just from seeing me as much as he does.

I recall my friends' joy and the texts in the group chat . . . the new group chat, which still has the icon with the inverted colors. The old one doesn't exist anymore, so Futaba has deemed . . . safest. Without thinking, I lift my phone again, pull up the chat, and scroll up; my eyes are drawn to the photos from yesterday I stare at my own face in one of them and wonder if it looks different from how I normally look. It does to me, but . . .

Closing IM again, I drop my phone onto the bed. The Phantom Thieves indeed won, but I don't feel like celebrating. Slowly but surely, I am becoming more and more convinced that I was right—that this victory has claimed a piece of my heart and that the hole it left will never stop bleeding.

I remember my friends' carefree cheers, their praise and their joy, the toasts and improvised speeches . . . like an invisible weight's been lifted as soon as Shido spoke those words . . . off of everyone's shoulders but my own. It . . . I frown; it couldn't have been just my own! It couldn't have been just me, who—

"You haven't been feeling that well, have you?"

I cast my eyes down. For a moment, I am almost offended at the prospect of feeling well after everything that happened . . . Then I remember that, by the looks of it, I am the only one who isn't. I let my mind drift back, trying to determine when the last time I truly felt well was . . . and realize that I am unable to say.

"This . . . isn't about Shido or school, is it?"

I pause for a moment, then shake my head. I almost reach for my pillow and the glove I have kept safely tucked under it. I will . . . never see him again. I force myself to think the words from time to time because, no matter how often I think them, I do not believe I have processed them quite yet. It was all so . . . sudden. There was no follow-up, no acknowledgment . . . The world around me kept spinning and moving as if nothing had happened. As though this victory cost nothing. I'm not sure how many even registered that my world came to a standstill.