If Goro Akechi had learned one thing from Ren's death, it was that grief can't be sorted into a timetable. It was a fluent, unpredictable thing. Merciless, sometimes irrational, and above all, cruel.

When Goro's mother died, he accepted the truth, but didn't allow his mind to linger too long on the thought that she was gone. He grieved, but he didn't allow himself to wallow. He had accepted that his mother was dead the moment he saw it, forcing any lingering emotion down to turn himself into a revenge-seeking machine.

Ren's death was different. Goro didn't grieve. Simply because he refused to accept it. It wasn’t true. He had been lied to many times before. This was no different.

Goro stood in the doorway to his apartment and didn’t enter. His eyes raked over the doorway.

He had refused to decorate the space. Ren took that liberty himself. It wasn't really noticeable. But he had added life to the apartment. His bag was draped over a chair. Trinkets from Ren's friends scattered over Goro's desk. His stupid plant he never watered. Goro was keeping it alive, really. But the area was so distinctly Ren. And now he..

Goro strangled the thought and stepped inside his apartment.

He never knew how to handle grief, even though it had a grip on his whole life. Grief was something to push aside or weaponize, he had learned.

Ren was the opposite. He was determined to power his way though every obstacle- physical or mental. Maybe Ren rubbed off on him. Because now, sitting in his apartment, surrounded by the space that was distinctively Ren... Grief was creeping up on him. It was a horrible emotion, and one that refused to leave him be, no matter how much he shoved the feeling down.

It wasn't true.