Makoto
Akira doesn't spend much time at the station—as little as he possibly can, honestly—but still just enough that no one is surprised to see him walking around like he clearly knows where he is supposed to be.
Granted, there aren't as many people as usual there, considering how many hours it's been dark already. There is no idle chitchat as he makes his way to Makoto's desk.
She doesn't even notice him until he sits down on the edge of her desk with enough oomph to rattle it, when she finally looks up, wild-eyed, like a rabbit caught in a flashlight.
"Oh. Akira." Gradually, she relaxes. "What brings you here?"
Akira holds his phone up and gives it a brief waggle before pocketing it. "Your sister texted me to say she hasn't heard from you in three days."
"Wha—uh—that's …" She flusters for a second before pulling her composure back in, like pulling up a hood. "It hasn't been that long."
He arches an eyebrow at her, not incredulous but definitely disbelieving.
"And your sister has instead decided to sic me on you for fun?"
Makoto huffs out a sigh and pretends she isn't blushing. "Alright, alright," she concedes. "I'll give her a call when I'm done here."
Akira stays right where he is, still sitting on the edge of the desk. He shows no signs of moving.
Several moments pass in silence, save for the sounds of Makoto's keyboard, until eventually she sighs again. "I'm not leaving right this minute, Akira," she says. "I know you don't understand how important this is, but I need to finish this."
Akira rolls his eyes with a low, "Here we go again," under his breath.
"I heard about that stunt the other day," Makoto points out, sliding him a sidelong glance. "You're lucky you all didn't get arrested."
"We'll stop showing up at protests when the current bullshit stops happening," he replies, very reasonably.
"You know the system—"
"I know the system is arresting a kid because a guy with a wallet said 'look over there.' If you're going to say this is all just part of the system working as planned, please don't."
They lapse into silence again until Makoto murmurs, like a peace offering, "I was mostly referring to the stunt with the motorcycle."
Akira scuffs one heel against the floor. "Ryuji's a blabbermouth."
"He always is," she agrees, finally closing her laptop and reaching for her back. "If you're so determined to stay here until I leave, I suppose I can call it a night."
With a tiny, satisfied smile, Akira pushes himself off of the edge of the desk, but he doesn't actually stop moving until Makoto is on her feet. He bows, then, ushering Makoto ahead with a grandiose flourish. She rolls her eyes, but there's a small smile on her face as she heads for the door.
They make it a few yards down the sidewalk when Makoto slows and yawns, covering her mouth with the back of one hand. "Excuse me," she offers afterward.
Akira nudges her arm with his elbow. "Need a lift?" he offers, smile turning cheeky.
"Akira, we are both grown adults," Makoto reminds him dryly.
"For old time's sake," he urges.
Makoto thinks it over for a second, and Akira nearly stumbles to a halt when she agrees, "Alright. For old time's sake."
He laughs, startled, but he nevertheless crouches just enough for her to clamber onto his back. He hooks his arms beneath her legs and straightens up.
"We must look ridiculous," Makoto observes with a sigh, adjusting her bag so it stops swinging wildly beside them as Akira walks.
"Probably." Akira shrugs one shoulder. "Is that really such a bad thing?"