First of all, I hope you stay safe in these difficult times.
I'd like to thank everyone who is reading this fic. In particular, thanks to Avedici, Newbyfroob, and the guests who left reviews.
Dear Avedici: I agree with you, I find the pairing YunoXAkise to be an interesting challenge from a writer's perspective. We'll see how it turns out :)
Dear Guest: Your comment is quite insightful. I consider Yuno to be an obsessive character who cannot really let go. Besides, she needs a target for her fixation, and this story explores this change of target. I hope this chapter answers your question.
Best wishes :)
The door to the future has now unlocked from this point onward.
Theme of Gasai Yuno, Happy Fate.
3. Key
Trapped in the insanity of the loops, hellbent on her fixations, Yuno realises she has been overlooking the importance of details.
A detail can be ironic. Third, in his daily persona, is presiding the humble homage the school has made to Amano Yukiteru, murdered by the same teacher who is comforting Yuki's classmates. Yuno, who has not set foot in a classroom since she got rid of this world alter-ego, stares at the serial killer from afar and hopes he found the message she has left on his desk.
A detail can speak volumes. Akise, who has never cared much about school, is also attending the memorial service, half-hidden from the rest of the people. He is writing in that notebook of his, deep in thought. The moment he finishes, he packs notebook and pen into his satchel, and his gaze finds Yuno's.
Without saying a word, they head for each other and meet midway.
"Shall we take a stroll together, Gasai-san?"
She accepts his suggestion. "You can call me Yuno."
It is a mild and sunny day, a perfect blue sky hanging over them. They move past the noisy streets, looking for tranquility.
"I apologise for mocking you the other day. You were not being creepy," she says.
"I just wanted to warn you," Akise replies, his voice sad. He plays with the sleeve of his shirt in a casual way. "It's horrible. That poor boy, Amano. Did you know him well, Yuno?"
She stiffens. "We were in the same class. I... had a crush on him time ago." Reducing everything she has lived with and for Yuki to a mild word is an insult. However, her goal is different this time. Idealising a departed love in front of a prospective new interest doesn't seem the wisest course of action.
Akise comes to a halt. "I didn't want to upset you."
"It's fine by me." They resume walking.
"I understand you. I met him a few times and had that odd urge to protect him."
Yuno is the one to stop now. "What do you mean by that?" Her mouth dries. Has she mistaken Akise's signals? If he feels for Yuki in this reality, how can she go on with her plan?
I'll have to adapt. I might find a way to strengthen links with him over avenging Yuki. She shudders.
He adjusts his watch. His hands are elegant, long fingers and fine bones. Lying hands that look fragile when they can be so strong. "Exactly what I said. What are you really trying to ask me?"
She feels her cheeks heating with anger. "Forget about it. It was a stupid question."
An uncomfortable silence accompanies them until they reach a small café. She sees a chance to break the ice.
"Do you fancy a cup of tea? I'm a little tired." She keeps her tone light-hearted.
"It's a good idea."
They choose a table close to a window and order matcha tea. There is a variety of cakes and desserts on display.
"Do you want anything to eat?" he asks.
She recalls her mother dragging her into a cage and punishing her with starvation for not sticking to a strict count of calories. A blend of rebellion and anguish sparks within her. She takes a glance around. She distinguishes neat, silvery trays upon which the most delicious-looking pastries stand: ripe cherries and strawberries, whipped cream, chocolate chips, caramel syrup, vanilla aroma. Her appetite reawakens.
Then she sees a plate of mochi; the image of Muru Muru and the Cathedral of Causality appears in her eye's mind, and her fancy vanishes. As Dea, her body doesn't need food. Even though she has eaten in different worlds according to the requirements of the moment, meals taste like dust and ashes in her mouth since long ago.
"I'd rather not to," she answers.
"I see. I couldn't eat a thing this morning, either," he says, blaming Yuki's death for her lack of appetite.
Let him admire my sensitivity, she thinks bitterly.
They sip the tea. At least, its warmth is comforting. She compliments the quality of the tea and the tidiness of the place; Akise agrees. The tension between them melts like sugar cubes in a hot beverage.
"What did you really want to ask me before?" He spoils the moment.
Did you like Yuki? Do you prefer him over me?
Yuno frowns. The question is rude and weird, and will not do. "I am curious about your notebook. Are you an aspiring author?" Her clumsy flirting makes her flinch.
"I'm an aspiring detective. I have been helping the police for a while. I've always wanted to help people, solve crimes—you know."
Yuno tries giggling. "Now you're showing off."
"No, I'm not. I use the notebook to write ideas and data. I'm trying to help in stopping the serial killer and... other issues." He has got serious, the hint of a glare calculating variables, measuring her. Playing the bimbo will get her nowhere.
"I think I'm coming back home now," she says. "Perhaps—"
"Please, don't leave yet. There is a park I'd like to show you. I promise you will love it."
That's better. She smiles and the matter is settled.
She thinks he would lead her to the park near school or the one that witnessed several confrontations with Hinata, Tenth and their dogs in erstwhile worlds; she errs. He takes a different direction and, after ambling for a while, they cross an old bridge and arrive at a hidden spot surrounded by trees, bushes and flower-beds. Sand and pebbles draw a lane that comes down to a small lake.
She recognises that lovely, quiet place; on the opposite shore, she once buried his body after landing from Sakurami Tower. Some unconscious details remain within him reality after reality.
Do you hide the key to undo the way of the succession? Can you help me to finally write an end which gives me happiness?
"Do you mind?" He points at the swings. "The movement allows me to think more clearly."
They swing up and down leisurely. Relaxed, Yuno's senses open to the beautiful scenery. A couple of swans swim on the lake, white nymphs against the backdrop of clear waters and green canopies. A gentle breeze brings the scent of flowers and the chirping of birds; a few cherry trees in bloom colour the afternoon with delicate hues of pink. Out of a sudden, she acknowledges how much she has missed this ease of mind and spirit that speaks of future hope, so different to the chaos and madness she has been experimenting, causing or suffering for so long.
"It's difficult to imagine that murder and death exist a few yards away," Akise says.
Yuno frowns. He has broken the spell. She turns her head to confront him. "I—"
By a trick of the light, Akise's features have acquired a particular charm; he irradiates an aura of poise and serenity. Yuno stares at him and notices how handsome he is. His good looks have been obliterated while she regarded him as an arch-enemy to be destroyed, or a mere commodity when time leaps changed his affections and loyalties. Now… Even his rare colouring suits him perfectly. She imagines white powdered sugar over luscious cherries, snowflakes upon the petals of a red rose. The rose reminds her of moisture reminds her of his lips on hers in Bacchus' shelter, desperate farewells dressed as kisses. A fluttering sensation jumps from her stomach to her heart and makes it beat quicker, blood rushing to her face. This time, it is not because of anger.
Details can be as dangerous as memories.
He eyed her in a curious way. "Are you sure you are okay?"
She shakes her head. "It has been a difficult day."
"Yes, it has. I won't bother you further. I will accompany you home," he says, and stands up. "I just needed this today, bathing in peace. I can't believe the world will soon be lost in nothingness."
She freezes. He takes it as a cue to keep on speaking.
"Above us there's a deity who reigns over time and space. He is dying, and the universe will die with him. In order to prevent this to happen, he has invented a game to choose a successor. You asked me about my notebook before, and I didn't tell you the whole truth. It is a magic diary given by Deus. It allows me to see the future truth and fight other aspirants."
For a split second, Yuno thinks of pretending outrage or amusement. She thinks twice; shielded in nonchalance, he is testing her. Cards on the table.
Her expression turns grave. "You're lying. I have a future diary. Deus Ex Machina summoned all of us, and you weren't there. We stood in podiums over an abyss and amidst the blue, far away from each other to hide our identities. However, most of my opponents spoke, and no voice was like yours. The ones who didn't say a word, their frames did not resemble yours at all."
Different emotions run through Akise's face. "I am impressed by your honesty. It's true; I know about the game, but I'm not a player."
A touch of the old contempt relights in Yuno. "Then, how do you know of us? Why are you trying to get involved in this?"
"Why? I'm an inhabitant of this universe and lucky enough to know where it's rolling and how it could be avoided. Of course it is my duty and my right to have a say in all this."
"But how did you know?" Her pitch is getting higher. She must calm down. Why is he so complicated again? I must have taken advantage of the realities when he was compliant, dammit.
"I've been dreaming of Deus for a while; or I must assume that he was contacting me. I have been led to some people and places," he hesitates. "I can't speak freely now, but I am on your side. I'm not an enemy. Quite the opposite, my wish is to help you win. Please, trust me."
Yuno jumps off from the swing, tidies her skirt, and makes to leave.
"You don't know your enemies' identities, do you?" he says.
She suppresses a smirk. Of course she knows. Anyway, she pretends ignorance. He has grabbed the notebook. He runs through its pages and shows them to her. Figures, dates and notes about the serial killer are written in neat handwriting. They delineate Third's modus operandi before he received the diary.
"You understand the pattern, right? Now, look at this. It's about Amano, sorry."
She reads the notes about Yuki's murder, swallowing bile. This Yuki was another fiasco, but the part of her that has clung to him for so many worlds is still sore. "I see the differences."
"I studied his profile. This type of serial killer always follows a ritual. And yet, he changed the pattern when he killed Amano: neither the time and place, nor the kind of victim. My theory is that both of them have been made a diary owner."
Yuno's mouth twists in a half-smile. It pleases her to hear Akise's deductions when they are aimed at serving her purposes.
"You are right about Yukiteru. He told me he had a diary."
He raises his eyebrows. "Did he tell you what his diary showed him?"
"Random events in the near future he was going to witness."
"Future... But it didn't tell about him."
"No, it didn't."
His fingers touch his brow in a pensive gesture. "And your diary?"
Waves of distrust and embarrassment wash over her.
"Help yourself." She picks the expendable phone that she stole from her alter-ego and hands it to him. The first entries are disgusting in their naivety. The more recent ones are ghastly, depicting the state of Yuki's corpse.
Akise tries to keep his composure. "I didn't know your feelings for him were so deep."
She seeks the adequate wording. "He helped me when I was in despair. My gratitude to him has always been strong." That is alright. She has given out the truth without elaborating it.
"I see," he says meekly. Of all the later versions of Akise, Yuno hopes this is not the one to give up on her. "Your two diaries together might have made a powerful combination."
"Now it's useless," she grimaced. "I've been left with no arms in this mad struggle."
"You have me."
She can't help grinning. "You're bluffing again?"
"I can't foresee the future. Yet I am smart and competent," he says while sorting through the pages. "Every diary is different and mirrors its owner's peculiarities. Yours shows your gratitude; Amano's diary displayed his passivity, telling him life events that passed him by; and the serial killer—"
"Third. We are named after numbers. I'm Second. Deus called the killer Third."
"Third, then," he says. "Third's diary must indicate the most suitable prey. It says at lot that you were not chosen; you are stronger than you let show."
"Thank you? Anyway, how can any of this help me?"
He taps a particular page. A name is written beside a question mark: Kurusu Keigo. Yuno's interest arises. Akise is very clever.
"I have a friend in the police force. This man is his Chief. My friend says that Kurusu's intuition seems to be supernatural out of late. I bet he owns a diary: Criminal Investigation Diary." He sighs.
She laughs openly. "You're jealous?"
He runs his hand through his hair. "Well, I don't want to be frivolous, but a Detective Diary would be great."
You had one twice. It meant your downfall, and almost mine.
She shivers. "I wish I had never received one."
He leans as if to touch her, hesitates in the last moment, brushing the air between them. "Hold out. Kurusu's diary will tell him about crimes, guiding him to Third. And take a look. Kurusu gave a warning that a foreign terrorist has infiltrated in Sakurami City—at that particular time, it's quite suspicious. Another diary holder? He will chase those two; that terrorist will try to get rid of a police officer first; Third will hunt the most suitable preys. For now, don't get involved in any crime, keep a low profile, be strong, and you'll be alright."
She chuckles. "What a flawless plan!"
He looks a bit abashed. "It's the best we have for now. I will improve it."
With the meager information he has, it is enough, indeed.
They leave the park and the bridge behind, tracking back their way to town. Early evening looms around.
"Will you be safe? You told me your parents were still abroad. Maybe you can come to my place," he says.
"Do your parents agree?"
"They are also out of town. Business trip."
The same old explanation. "Only the two of us. It's too bold of you. I can take care of myself."
Her reply is sharp and he winces as if he has overstepped some sacred boundaries. In truth, she has a mission to accomplish—alone. Besides, some pretense of modesty might be fitting.
"Err… This is my number, email and post addresses. Call me if you need me, Yuno."
She likes the worry she hears in his voice.
...
She waits for nightfall. Meanwhile, she waves her fingers and practises the mystic symbols. Out of the few attempts at creation she has made—surprisingly, her creativity has been running dry steadily since she became a goddess—the protective shield for her diary is the only one she has mastered. She draws angles and seals in the air, and the gift she has for Third is prepared.
The clock strikes the appointed hour. Clad in black clothes from head to toe, hood and mask hiding hair and face, she strides to the alley she told Third of. He doesn't make her wait. The glimmer of the dirty silver of his machete announces his rabid attack.
She ducks and swings, uses a bit of her Dea energy to help her. They dance a deadly waltz until Yuno allows one of the slashing arcs of his blade to cut her in order to use the momentum to target his diary. It drops; Yuno pivots and grabs it before Third can get it.
"You've been lucky it's not broken," she says.
The alley is gloomy, streetlamp lights erasing the darkness here and there, painting the shadow of two predators.
One of the predators is far smarter than the other.
Yuno peeks at the journal entry: Tonight I meet an unknown player who dared me. I must kill the player. Dead End. The flag explains Muru Muru's complaints about him. A whole protective gear except for the thing that can undo him with a simple dart. She thinks of Yuki and, for a moment, he wishes Third cold and dead.
I must keep myself together. He's a pawn that will serve me in the long run.
"You won't last if you dismiss the warnings. I'm going to change your fate. I won't kill you tonight," she asserts. As the words are uttered, the flag disappears and is replaced by other possibilities. She studies them; there are two lines of action, and both finish in a Dead End.
He tries to recover the phone. She avoids his assault and immobilises him.
"Don't move. Don't appeal to my patience. Behold how fate shifts again."
She conjures the appropriate seals. Third's diary is now protected. Although the shell is not as perfect as Yuno's, it will suffice. It will not be destroyed by human tools or sudden falls, and only three people will be able to touch it or break it: Third, Yuno, and Akise.
The entries change. Three new future paths open. None lead to a Dead End; none head for Yuno or the albino; at least two lead to the doom of several diary owners, including Eleventh. She sneers.
"Now you can choose your killings and last longer. However, don't look for me or betray me." She returns the diary to his owner.
"What do you gain by this?"
It is a good question. There is a beast within her that longs to see the serial killer butcher every player before she puts him down; she craves freshness, an amusing bloody show that saves her the hindrance of fighting Bacchus again.
Foremost, she wants spare time to seduce Akise.
"Not your business," she says, and disappears in the night.
Once at home, she undresses and inspects her phone. Messages from Deus Ex Machina report that Third has avoided no less than three Death Ends. The next morning will be a beehive—almost every owner is insane enough or desperate enough to contemplate cowardice. They will hunt Third as he hunts them.
She goes to bed. She has spent energies creating the shield and falls asleep immediately.
...
She wakes up late, fully restored. She has a shower; as she dries her hair, she glances at the Game message board. As presumed, it overflows with comments about Third. However, her attention is caught by the only one which doesn't belong to that board: Hello, Yuno. Are you okay? I hoped to see you at school, but you haven't come. Can we meet somewhere after noon?
She grins and replies to Akise's message: I'm fine. I needed to rest. Newest Mall?
They write the details. Afterwards, she grooms herself. The clothes her counterpart has are scarce, and most of them don't fit her. As Dea, she doesn't age, but not before her body acquired a youthful development that the human girl didn't have.
Shrugging, she sets apart the clothes she can make something out of. She chooses a black skort, a stylish beige blouse and a delicate bracelet. She feels like braiding her hair, a hairstyle she had been fond of before falling in love with twin tails. A tad nervous, she revises the technique. Skills she once was proud of has been eluding her in favour of other talents—slashing, maiming, killing, destroying. Her efforts are fruitless and she quits before her mood turns sour. After consideration, she applies gloss to her lips and reaches for the only bottle of eau de cologne she has. Her spirit soars when she takes a whiff at it; it smells really well, somehow recalling the scent of blossoms from yesterday. And thus, she is suddenly aware that this is the first world after so many—fifty, sixty?—that her sense of smell is capturing something else apart from the stink of blood and gunpowder and corruption. She looks at her reflection in the mirror and nods in contentment, a bit embarrassed. How silly of her to care about her appearance for Akise's sake; how shocking to be happy because of such trivialities.
They meet in front of the gates. He compliments her; she is left guessing if the desire that shines in his eyes before withdrawing after a mask of propriety is a product of her imagination.
"I don't want to talk about anything gross today. Let's have a good time," she says.
They pace the grounds, making some small talk and admiring the golden fish in the ponds. Their steps take them to a bookshop. Akise's curiosity is piqued by the photograph volumes. He selects one that contains superb pictures of natural landscapes and monumental cities.
"Aren't they gorgeous? I have always wanted to travel to places like these."
Yuno, both as a normal human and as a deity, has never been too attracted to open spaces or the big picture, preferring local environments where she can stay in full control—an aftermath of growing in a hospice first and in a cage later, maybe? Anyway, his enthusiasm is contagious, and soon she is as bewitched as him with the vistas in the pictures.
"All this beauty must be preserved, and this is only a tiny part in a vast firmament. We must defend the continuity of life and causality at any cost," he says, and looks at her intently. She nods feebly while images of the destruction of scores of universes replay in her mind's eye.
Next, they enter a music shop. They check different albums; they take the headphones and listen to the lists which are being played. She is pleasantly surprised at finding a best hits list of a band she once liked a lot. Nostalgia catches her, though of the good kind, the one that speaks of an armistice in the middle of a war. She listens to different songs until a discordant note comes from somewhere near her. Annoyed, she glares around and sees Akise. Eyes closed, hands imitating the gestures of an orchestra conductor, he is humming some melody with mixed results. Yuno takes off the headphones and breaks into a chortle of amusement. He comes back from his reverie to find her shaking with laughter, and a faint blush colours his pale skin.
"I must have looked ridiculous."
"Oh, yes," she goes on laughing. He smiles in return.
Later, they go upstairs to the upper floors. They pass by a karaoke room. Yuno lifts her eyebrows.
"Don't dare," Akise warns.
Playfully, she signals at the dancing game machines. "What about that?"
He pretends to weigh his answer. "I think so."
"Why don't you try the Super-Duo?" the assistant suggests.
The man chooses an interesting level of difficulty which, mixed with the need for the dancers to coordinate their efforts, makes their first try a matter of stepping onto each other's feet or bumping into each other. Nevertheless, both are ambitious and stubborn, and have great athletic skills, so shortly they are dancing in perfect unison. When the tune stops, a loud clapping of a spontaneous audience greets them. The man gifts them a cute plushie that Yuno keeps. This time, the two of them blush.
They finish the tour having an early supper in a food-stall. Human requirements.
Yuno is taken aback by her noticing the taste and texture of the meals in the bento box.
"The pieces of crunchy chicken are excellent, but that sauce lacks spice," she remarks.
"I'm not an expert. Are you a good cook?"
"I'm really good at it," she replies. "And you? You are living alone, so..."
"I can open bottles and cans and switch on the microwave." He waves away Yuno's protests with a smile. "Seriously, I can handle it if it's not much complicated. I can even make a few international dishes. I once made porridge and no one was poisoned."
She laughs."So you don't know how to cook traditional Japanese cuisine."
"My fault."
"I can cook some dishes for you," she says out of a sudden.
"It would be great. I will buy the ingredients. Can you come to my place tomorrow, for example? We can skip classes," he dithers. "That it is, if you accept to come round. It will be daytime."
His doubts delight her. "It's fine by me. Let me write a list."
"I have no further intentions," he elaborates while she writes down the ingredients.
That statement worries her. If he is affirming his loyalty, it is okay. If he is implying a lack of interest in her…
He's on my side, anyways. And I've seen desire in his eyes, I'm sure of it.
He pays the bill and they leave the mall.
"I had a great time, but I have to meet a friend now," he says.
"Who?" She is gripped by an unexpected pang of jealously.
"The police officer I told you about yesterday."
Nishijima. "Alright. See you tomorrow at lunchtime."
"Take care, please. Let me know if you need me."
"You're the protective kind," she says, the irony of the thought clutching her chest. She is the ultimate protective kind. But who has ever protected her? Yuki? In his co-dependent fashion, a few times. Muru-Muru?
Akise.
The answer would have been unthinkable when she first met him, in that long lost second world. Who could have foreseen this twist of fate?
He holds her hand ever so slightly. "It may be so. It doesn't weaken the fact that I cherish you."
To love and to cherish, till death do us part.
Her heart leaps, and she feels dizzy. The moment passes, and they do part ways.
She finds her house emptier and more somber than other times. In contrast, her mood is high. She hums gleefully.
"What a wonderful day! I never expected that I may have so much fun with Akise. He's usually so circumspect," she tells the ghosts.
Late evening, she sends him messages to check if he has already come back home. Fortunately, he is fine and pleased to know about her. They text each other for a while. "Don't do anything stupid. I need you to stay safe and sound if you want to protect me," she writes at last. "I will," he replies.
She lays on bed, glancing at the ceiling, concerned about his safety. Even though she has made arrangements to shield him from Third, the albino has always been a rogue variable unable to control.
There are many dangers out there, and she has no Akise Diary to watch him.
As she waits for slumber to come, she decides she will stay with him in the same house. For security's sake, of course.
...
Confronted with the physicality of his place, bloody memories from other worlds swirl in Yuno's mind and make her weary of what might happen. The house has witnessed dreadful events.
If he remembers her trespassing, dragging Yuki in or out to convince him of eliminating Hinata and company, or killing them herself; Akise and her fighting to the death; she stabbing Eighth whom he was bound to protect; her hatchet or her sword singing his doom...
If he remembers those events, I'll have to torture him to get his secrets. And by now, she knows him too well to know that he is not going to talk, no matter what, unless emotions—love—are involved; and not even then, he will find a way to remain loyal to both his vows and his feelings.
Besides, she doesn't want to torture him.
I must coax it out of him. I must woo him. This is the battle I have to win this time.
She is eager to play this game. To be honest, the truth behind Akise is not the only reason for her eagerness. She bites her bottom lip and daydreams about when kissing will enter the picture.
A noise from her bag: a beep which sounds louder than thunder. Another entry in her diary, a clockwork reminder of Yukiteru, of her promises to him. A reminder of her true purpose: to defeat fate, to enjoy a happy end. A reminder of her real enemy: Deus Ex Machina, the one that first threw her into this neverending misery. Even if Yuki doesn't mean to her what he once did, she cannot let Deus win.
I will get my way. I will create my fate.
She is convinced that Deus hides a vital secret that may undo the succession, and that this secret relates to Akise.
What if I am wrong? a little voice inside her asks.
If she is wrong, she will start it all over again.
"Let go."
She whips around to confront the whisper. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. In the grounds outside the house, coming from the spot she decapitated him, a blurred, phantasmagorical Akise walks toward her. It might be a memory, but the shape is whole and unbroken, and his lips repeat: "Let go. Move on."
The nightmares are back.
The door of the house opens up and the real Akise welcomes her.
"Is it everything fine? You look pale," he asks, eyeing everywhere as if to figure out the threat.
The hallucination has vanished. I must be on the right track. It must be a trick of Deus to make me stop.
She dismisses his worries with a faked cheerful attitude and crosses the threshold. He shows her some rooms of the house. The furniture is a mixture of styles, with a large couch presiding the living room.
"Will your parents return soon?" She wants answers, and she will get them.
"Not before the world ends."
She cringes. "No need to be so harsh."
"Sorry. But it's the truth. They are in corporate; the trips can last up to several months."
"Oh, absolutely. I can relate to that. Mine aren't returning soon, either."
He guides her to the tidy kitchen.
"Are you going to wear a sexy apron?" he jokes.
She gives him a seductive wink. "Thinking of some cosplay kink?"
He fidgets, his self-possession wavering for a moment. "I have bought the ingredients of the list. I'll help you with what you need."
She puts on an apron, indeed. She cannot dwell too much on how plain it is, because Akise surprises her wearing another apron and a headband.
"Speaking of cosplay," he says. He is the one to wink this time.
A sudden tenderness grows within her. Driven by impulse, she touches his hair, craving its softness, pretending she is adjusting the headband. His face beams. A charged silence blooms between them.
Open up your heart to me.
Instead, she says: "That is a rare colour, both of hair and eyes. Is your mother's or your father's gift?"
"None, I fear, just family genes bringing out new blends. Wait, I'll show you a picture."
He lets the bowl of salad, goes somewhere else, and comes back with a portrait in a frame. The Akises have nice, cultured expressions and an elegant flair about them; those are the only resemblances with their son. For all she knows, he can also be adopted.
"I was adopted," she says. Truths must beget truths.
"Oh. Was it fine at the orphanage?"
"It wasn't that bad. The caretakers were fine. However, it was sad to wait for a family to choose me and see them ignore me."
Why have I said that?
"But now you are okay?"
"It's not the kind of family I longed for. They didn't treat me as I expected. I—We aren't happy together."
The words come out off her mouth without warning. Why in hell have I said that? It's him who has to confess!
"We don't need to go on with this conversation if it hurts you."
"Thanks, Akise," she replies, still shocked by her own words. She pulls herself together and shakes it off. "It's not too big a deal, anyways. Let's get started!"
She busies herself with steps and instructions to hide her anxiety. She asks him to slice and cut all the vegetables and pickles that will accompany the rice as she prepares the miso soup; she is not giving him hints of how well she handles a knife.
"Why don't you call me Aru yet?"
She pauses. The name is heavy in her lips. "I find it strange, sorry," she says with honesty.
He gives away a good-humoured laugh. "It's quite uncommon, truly. It exists. Not everyone is named after a verb."
"It must have been tough when you were little. But it sounded quite cute then: Aru-chan. Can I call you Aru-chan?"
He grimaces. She keeps on teasing. "Do you have any pictures of you as a small child? You must have been so adooorable, Aru-chan."
He seems to ponder it. Then he shakes his head. "We haven't been living here for long; photo albums were discarded when we moved places."
She hides a scowl. Why doesn't he show her proof of his past? "What a poor excuse! Where did you live before?"
"In Sumire City." He meets her inquiry with a frown before sighing in sympathy. "Okay, I know you have to be cautious. I'll repeat it: I am your ally, not your foe. And if I had those photographs, I wouldn't show them to you nonetheless. I don't want you to put a face to that Aru-chan."
His grin defeats her suspicions for now, and she surrenders. They go on cooking and chatting without any other remarkable issues. Yuno focuses on the task at hand. She has not lied; she was once a flawless chef, even in her beginnings as a goddess. Nowadays, she cannot remember when it was the last time she cooked well or cooked at all. Her dulled senses of taste and smell have not been helping her to boot.
When she finishes, she is oddly anxious about the outcome. Akise lays the table. Finally, they sit to eat. He eats delicately but heartily, and compliments her. She swirls the soup and picks up at the rice and vegetables, and explodes.
"The soup is too salty. Some vegetables are too well-done," she mutters.
"I found the meal rather tasty," he says.
"Don't patronise me!" she shouts, losing her temper and smashing chopsticks and fist upon the table. A glass falls and shatters. She feels so tired of pretending normalcy; she wants to break everything to pieces.
Akise glowers at her. "Don't accuse me of things which are not true. This is far better than the meals I've been eating out of late, even though they may not live up to your standards. I don't think this tantrum is called for."
He rises to fetch a broomstick to clean the mess. His words and actions ground her back to earth. She must keep control. She helps him and tries to mend her ways. "I'm so sorry. I just wanted to do it perfectly. I've been losing my touch. Yesterday, I tried to braid my hair, and it went awry." She cringes inwardly, surprised at her own whining.
The hardness in his eyes disappears, replaced by a glint of mischief. "I see. You've been too anxious to impress me. I make you nervous."
"That's not—"
"Don't sweat it. You make me nervous, too." His voice lowers, causing a funny feeling in her stomach. This time it is him the one who tangles his fingers in her hair. "The ponytail is neat, by the way."
The intimate gesture enwraps them, removing the former tension, melting her rage away. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'll do it better next time."
His eyes glow with a warm light. "That's the spirit. I believe in improvement, but don't get obsessed about perfection. Perfection is a relative concept, and contrary to human's nature."
He may be right;however, she is a goddess, and she fears she is losing something essential in her creative core.
And yet, he is right again: the ponytail is neat, the meal was quite acceptable. Her senses has been reawakening so that she is capable of noticing nuances and flaws that are not that important. All in all, she is improving and recovering long-forgotten skills. The acknowledgement appeases her.
This timeline is different; it is special, indeed. She feels different. She only needs to find out why.
They tidy the place, wash and wipe dishes and cutlery. They idle around, revising some school notes without much enthusiasm. After a while, he lets her know about his new findings. Although she pretends so, she keeps not much attention; nothing is news to her.
"… I got information about that terrorist: her name, a pic… There is talk among the police officers of dangerous dogs attacking people… and a dark sect… Perhaps?…"
He goes on and on. Yuno realises a couple of things. First, even if everything is an old song, she is impressed by how much he has discovered in less than two days. Second, she is concerned; greatly alarmed, to be precise. Akise should not be so involved in the game lest he can suffer dire consequences.
"Stop. Listen to me," she says.
And she tries to convince him to give up his investigation around the police department, and for them both to keep a defensive stance. She invents a story where a friend of her works in the hospital where Fourth's son agonises. She explains to him Fourth's backstory and the reasons why he is not reliable, for he has nothing to lose. She claims that a terrorist must be too much for them to deal with, and to step carefully around the other findings.
"Please. Let's keep a low profile, you said it yourself that was the best plan," she pleads.
He hesitates and finally complies, "Perhaps I've been a bit too rash."
She knows he is only half-convinced, but it is enough for now.
Hours pass by quickly. They go outside to the patio to look at the setting sun. Every colour of the rainbow spread upon the sky in a wonderful scene; she thinks he would kiss her in that romantic scenario.
Unfortunately, he doesn't do so; they get back into the house once more. She gossips around the living room and finds an old film which always made her laugh—a mild-mannered, easy comedy.
"Can we watch it? It's been a long time," she says, excited as a kid.
"Yes, I also like it. Quite a time, now."
He makes some camomile tea. They take comfortable positions in the coach and have a good time watching the film. When it finishes, they turn to a different movie from the same crew. It is also nice, but too slow. Yuno feels really relaxed and cosy.
They doze off and don't wake up until a couple of hours later. Both blink, a bit disoriented.
"You will stay the night, yes?" Akise says.
Yuno nods in agreement. She is so comfortable she doesn't want to move. Akise is near her, and his body is warm.
"There's a guest room..."
"I'm fine here, just let me sleep."
He brings a thin comforter, cuddles her, and recovers his place. "I'm also fine here with you," he whispers. "I'm glad you decided to improve your cooking skills. That way, I can try more of your dishes in the future."
"Get a good wife to teach you cook," she mumbles, half-slept.
"Then I'll have to be a good husband."
Husband.
She feels her chin being lifted. She opens her eyes to find his dressed in twilight, heavy-lidded. He kisses her, softly and gently, caressing her face. Then he embraces her and turns to sleep.
She smiles as she basks in the peaceful, soothing sensation of being home at last after a cruel war, of having hit a landmark. Husband. The most curious happiness overflows her. Husband. She will dream of this word.
And suddenly, she has a revelation: a single detail, so simple yet essential, hidden in plain sight.
Akise is not a diary holder.
She can win without him dying.
Within that simple truth there is a spark of hope than can light up a bonfire.