The sentence left everyone in the coffee shop dumbfounded.
Akuto might usually be a bit ill-tempered, but he rarely unleashes killing intent directly at someone!
Hinami instantly froze in terror, tears streaming down her face.
"Akuto-kun! She's only a child!" Irimi Yuki stepped in front of Hinami; she too felt Akuto had gone too far this time.
Akuto gave a cold laugh and turned to look out the window. "This brat's obviously spoiled rotten."
"The kind of little monster who'll get everyone around her killed because of her whims."
Kaneki forced an awkward laugh and spoke up. "Mr. Akuto, isn't that a bit presumptuous…?"
"Miss Hinami looks perfectly well-behaved." As he spoke, Kaneki turned and smiled at Hinami.
Hinami wasn't having any of it; she shot Kaneki an icy glare and buried her head back in her mother's arms.
The corner of Kaneki's mouth twitched.
"Haha." Akuto laughed exaggeratedly, stood up, dropped two bills, and left.
"Boring."
Outside Anteiku Coffee Shop, Akuto had nowhere in particular to go, so he simply headed home.
He needed to think about where to expand his circle of "friends" and have those "good friends" help him look for fingers.
The moment he reached his front door, he found Mado Akira crouched beside it, looking miserable, her hair dripping.
Akuto glanced at the suitcase beside her. "Oi, no sleeping here."
Akira, drowsy from the cold, jolted awake; hearing Akuto's words, she flushed with shame and irritation. "What do you mean 'no sleeping'—you think I want to sleep out here?"
Though she grumbled inwardly, Akira bowed sincerely. "I was rude last time and spoke harshly; I hope you'll forgive me."
Her earnest apology caught Akuto off guard. For a moment he couldn't muster anything nasty; he opened the door and walked in.
"Come in."
Akira stepped into the entryway, changed into slippers, lifted her suitcase, and walked into the living room.
"Hey, are you seriously guarding against me? What do you think I'm going to do—use a quinque on you?"
Akira blinked, then her face reddened. "N-no… this is from CCG Headquarters, delivered through me."
"It's a quinque made from Nishio Nishiki's kagune; your fingerprint's already registered."
"No one but you can open it."
"Oh?" Akuto instantly saw through CCG's little scheme, but he didn't care.
The quinque itself interested him.
Curious.
He took the case and pressed his finger to a sensor on the handle.
Buzz!
With a hum, the suitcase transformed; a long blade appeared in his hand.
A Japanese longsword—Akuto preferred to call it a katana.
Single-edged, after all.
About 1.6 meters long, five centimeters wide, glowing blue-green—utterly surreal.
It looked like a sword wreathed in turquoise flame!
"Nice." He gave it a few swings; the balance felt great.
"Um… can I take a look?" Akira asked shyly, eyes shining with longing.
Akuto tossed the blade over; Akira caught it, shot him a glare, then gazed at it like a treasure.
"What a fine sword."
"It's named Ruri Kinsuke—'Ruri' for its color, 'Kinsuke' as its name."
"Please use it well."
Reluctantly, Akira handed it back. Akuto pressed a button on the hilt, reverting it to suitcase form, and casually flung it behind him.
Akira's pupils quaked!
She started to protest, but the case sank into Akuto's shadow like into water.
After a stunned moment, Akira remembered Akuto was the legendary Onmyoji.
Awkwardness filled the room.
"Go take a shower; you're dripping on my floor."
Akira looked down—sure enough, water dotted the path she'd walked.
"Even if it's dirty, I'll be the one wiping it."
With that she slipped into the bathroom, leaving a trail of delicate wet footprints.
When she emerged, Akuto was curled on the sofa watching TV while rain lashed the windows.
The scene relaxed her mood.
Rainy days, sofa, TV—soothing.
Drying her hair, Akira naturally sat beside him.
Only then did she notice the gift she'd brought earlier: still sealed, untouched, exactly where she'd left it.
"Hey, NEET, you've gotten this lazy? That gift's been sitting there for almost a week."
"Four days is a week to you?" Akuto retorted.
"Tragic lifestyle." Akira's calm eyes delivered another sharp critique of his habits.
"Muttering over there…?"
"Go make me a couple of dishes."
Akuto waved irritably, trying to shut her up.
Akira suddenly extended a fair hand, fingers slim and pale as scallion stems. "What?"
Akuto dragged his gaze from the TV.
"Keys, money—I'm going grocery shopping."
Akuto raised an eyebrow but didn't refuse; he tossed his keyring and wallet into her palm.
Akira stood, took the umbrella by the door, and headed downstairs. In the garage, she stared at her car and his, lost in thought.
For reasons she couldn't name, she did something completely out of character: she climbed into Akuto's car.
Only to discover she had no idea how to drive it. After fumbling, the parked sports car suddenly roared, startling her.
"Show-off." Though she complained, a smile tugged at her lips; she stepped on the gas and the car shot out of the garage.
Speeding along the elevated road.
Akira had to admit the car felt amazing!
The thrill of velocity flushed her cheeks. Unfortunately, the supermarket wasn't far—less than twenty minutes away.
Pushing a cart through the aisles, Akira questioned herself while picking fresh vegetables.
"I'm acting like a housewife choosing veggies." She ruffled her hair.
Reluctant as she was, she had to admit she was enjoying it. Half an hour later the door opened; Akuto watched Akira haul two bulging bags into the kitchen.
Clatter and clang followed.
Soon the aroma of cooking drifted out.
At mealtime, Akira skipped the dining table and set the dishes casually on the coffee table. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her cool, pale cheeks bore a faint, almost hidden flush.
This was the first time she'd cooked for anyone outside her family; her movements were practiced, yet inwardly she felt utterly awkward.
Akuto sat down across from her.
Suddenly Akira seemed to remember something; she opened the gift she'd brought earlier.