This was going to create problems. A lot of them.
But Inori Yuzuriha had run out of options. She had no faster way to erase Matsuri's suspicion of her, and she had far too many real things to take care of to spend any more time on school drama. That kiss settled exactly one thing very clearly: Inori had zero interest in Shu Ouma, or in any man at all.
And anyway, calling it a "kiss" was generous—it was barely a brush of lips, nothing more. It barely counted.
Besides, that other rumor—popular idol and girl fall for the same boy—would collapse on its own now, and that alone was worth something. Between two rumors, the second one was obviously going to sit easier on Matsuri. No one had to hear the word "man" in the sentence. The whole thing sounded significantly less offensive that way~
Half the students nearby had their phones out fast enough to catch the moment. It would be all over the school's social networks within the hour, and then her EGOIST personal page would be next. Didn't matter. If anything, a yuri-coded reputation was considered a net positive for an internet idol. The math worked out.
Inori swept Matsuri away the instant it was over, the two of them fleeing the scene hand in hand like a pair of eloping lovers. All the way to the train, Matsuri kept her head down, not once looking at Inori, following wherever she was pulled without a single word of protest.
It was probably late enough that the car was almost empty. Just the two of them in an echoing carriage, the last of the sunset unraveling into countless blood-red threads across the sky outside the windows, the rhythmic scrape of wheels against rails filling the silence.
Inori was staring out at the city rushing past in the opposite direction, working through the operational plan for the Leucocyte mission in her head, when Matsuri finally broke.
"Inori…" Her voice came out small and a little unsteady. "What… what am I to you? How do you actually see me?"
Inori looked over at her. The tear tracks had dried, but her eyes were still puffy—swollen like two little peaches.
"A friend."
She answered without thinking twice.
"...Then why did you—"
Matsuri's voice got smaller and smaller, trailing off like a child who'd been wronged and had nowhere to put it. She kept turning over what had just happened and couldn't make herself believe it was real.
Inori had never been predictable—just when you thought you'd figured out how to read her, she'd do something utterly wild and prove you wrong. She wasn't a bad person. She'd gone out of her way to prove she had no feelings for Shu—gone so far as to—the word kiss still wouldn't come out of Matsuri's mouth.
"Kissing you? That's nothing," Inori said, unbothered, propping her chin on her hand and turning to look out the window instead. "We've eaten together so many times. You're really going to make a fuss over that?"
"That was my first kiss!"
Matsuri's voice cracked upward; she'd hit her limit. She twisted toward Inori and announced this with full volume.
"Mine too. Don't worry."
Inori looked back at her and smiled. Reached over and ruffled her hair, easy and warm.
"...My first kiss going to a girl…" Matsuri made a small, miserable sound. "My life is getting really weird."
"Isn't that more interesting?"
That got her—Matsuri spluttered, then laughed despite herself, a helpless little sound escaping before she could catch it.
"Living the same quiet life on repeat until you die sounds so incredibly dull," Inori said.
"We're supposed to have experiences that only we could ever have."
——Like coming into your world, for example.
The thought surfaced and drifted away. Inori stretched—a full, unselfconscious roll of her shoulders—and pink hair spilled off them in a wave. The tiredness of evening had crept up on her; she yawned enormously, pressed the back of her hand to the corner of her eye to catch the reflex tear, and then asked without particular preamble:
"Matsuri. What kind of person do you think I am?"
"Mm…" Only the briefest pause. "A bad person."
Inori's eyes curved at the corners.
"Yeah? Really?"
"Because you're always joking around, teasing me… and then today…" Matsuri's voice dropped. "Even if you were trying to make me believe you—did you really have to go that far?"
Inori let out another of her bright, clear laughs.
"The thing about me," she said, "is that I hate talking in circles. I'd rather just act. You thought I liked Shu—so I acted, and proved I didn't. Nothing wrong with that."
"Which is exactly why you're bad!"
It was supposed to be a scolding, but Matsuri was smiling now—a real smile, light and easy, the shadow finally gone from her face.
She found herself thinking, quietly: Inori is actually a very simple person. Purer than anyone else Matsuri had ever known. Whatever she thought, she did. Whatever she wanted to say, she said. She'd never once seen Inori be indirect, or two-faced, or perform emotions she wasn't feeling.
Though that wasn't entirely accurate either—because Matsuri had seen Inori smile at adoring fans today, perform warmth and delight for a crowd. And she'd known, with the familiarity of long acquaintance, that every bit of it was a performance. Inori was doing something she'd decided to do. The real Inori was underneath, untouched.
"What's wrong with being bad?"
Inori was entirely untroubled by the label.
"I want to be a bad person. As long as I get what I need to get done—I don't care in the slightest what happens to strangers who have nothing to do with me. And people who go around saying 'I'd rather be the one who gets hurt than ever hurt anyone else'—" her voice dropped into something close to contempt— "those are the people I find the most insufferable."
The implication was there, obvious and deliberate. Matsuri caught it immediately.
"Are you talking about Shu? He's just really kind—"
"I'm talking about you. And no, that's not kindness."
Inori had no interest in hearing a defense of Shu's character. She knew Guilty Crown the series—had watched it episode by episode as it aired, then gone back and read every long-form analysis and breakdown she could find. She knew Shu Ouma too well to be surprised by him.
"Kindness, assertiveness, whatever quality you want to name—all of it only matters when you have the strength to back it up. He lacks courage. That's just cowardice. Why dress it up in prettier words?"
——That's not fair! Shu lost his parents when he was young, he's been carrying all that grief alone his whole life, it must have been so—
Matsuri almost said it out loud. The counterargument had already formed and was right there at the tip of her tongue.
But in the same instant, she looked at Inori—at the quiet depth sitting in those red eyes—and something stopped her. She thought about it. Inori had also lost her parents. The same circumstances. And yet Inori had turned out… like this. Unbroken. Clear-eyed. Facing life openly and with such strength—even living it brilliantly.
"I suppose everyone has their own way of living."
After a long pause, Matsuri found she had no real counter to offer—and settled for this small, wistful concession instead.
"Sure," Inori said, blinking once. "Doesn't have much to do with me either way."
A beat.
"Though. I do need him to help me with something soon."
Inori reversed course without ceremony.
"Shu's going to help you?"
"Yes. Something that only he can do."
The smile had faded from Inori's face, replaced by an expression of precise, solitary seriousness.
——A Void capable of absorbing the Apocalypse Virus. If Inori intended to eliminate the virus from this world entirely, then Shu Ouma was irreplaceable—the one and only conduit through which he'd been able to grow into the role he'd been fated for by the series finale. It was his destiny.
Not that I'm going to let him die in my place. Inori's thoughts moved on smoothly. On the contrary—all she needed to do was show him a little warmth, a little affection, and when the time came, he'd probably walk into the fire willingly enough. What a perfect plan. Let me get you right where I need you and squeeze every drop of use out of you. Then discard you like a used rag when I'm done.
——That's right, Shu Ouma. In my eyes, you are nothing more than the ultimate tool. A workhorse.
"And don't misunderstand anything, Matsuri. I don't care what you feel or who you feel it for—but I loathe people misreading me as someone who has feelings for men."
"...I understand."
The sudden shift in tone caught Matsuri off guard, but she nodded anyway, earnest and a little dazed.
With that done—both the ridiculous stunt Inori had pulled and her brutally one-sided assessment of Shu—the last traces of Matsuri's foolish suspicion dissolved completely, rising away like smoke.
"Wait—I still haven't asked! Inori, how did you end up being able to come to school all of a sudden?"
Matsuri's face lit up. She'd nearly forgotten the question she'd been most curious about.
"Oh, that." Inori smiled—a particular, secretive kind of smile—and produced the explanation she'd prepared in advance. "I happened to meet someone really capable online. When I mentioned the situation, they took care of all the paperwork… not for free, of course."
——Not for free meaning: things like blowing up GHQ Endlaves.
"Wow, someone that capable actually exists?"
Matsuri's understanding of that sort of social machinery was, charitably speaking, limited.
"Mm. Could be a CEO of some company, or maybe a government official of some kind."
...