...!

[That one sentence knocks him out of his panic, of his anguish and his isolation.

'I still like the person I see in front of me right now.'

After all, he'd reacted so badly - to that support, to that affirmation that his old self was there - was because he thought Akira was saying that he only liked those flicker of embers still left inside of him, the last bits he still held onto. He panicked because he wasn't sure How to flame those up anymore, how to be that person that Akira saw -

But hearing that even this self is still liked, he...

He slowly, shakily, lowers his hands, staring at Akira with a vulnerability that pierces right to the core of who he is - the scared, hurting person who has been alone and in pain for so long that he forgot what companionship and comfort felt like.]

You....do...?

[It's said with so much trepidation behind it, as if he can barely believe it himself.

because he can't.]

How....How can you, still -

[He cuts himself off, running a hand through his hair, and when he speaks again?

It's with the tone of someone who expects rejection.]

I'm - a killer. I'm someone who took away the futures of so many people, how can you say that? I'm - a Shinigami.

[A death god.

How can anyone like that?]