The young man in the neatly pressed school uniform left the police station not too long ago with the familiar weight of his suitcase in his hand. It had been a disgustingly long and sweltering day, long enough to make Akechi want to skin himself alive for some relief. Instead, however, he walks out of the subway, that stink like human sweat and desperation. He walks towards the quieter, less crowded streets, in a blind desire to get at least an hour of cozy peace today in one of Tokyo's quietest cafeterias. And the closer Leblanc came, the lighter the tension in the boy's shoulders became, the more relaxed the grip on the personalized suitcase and the deeper and calmer the detective's breathing.