She leaned her head back against the wall and crossed her arms. The dark, heavy bags under her eyes were still there, but the sharp, brittle tension in her shoulders finally uncoiled. She just watched him, the deadpan glaze in her eyes replaced by a quiet, steady flicker of dark entertainment.
"So, my number one fan," Shoko continued, her tone softening just a fraction. "If you're not going to punch me, and you're not going to let me smoke my cancer sticks... what exactly are you doing down here?"
Ren dropped his theatrical posture, a genuine look of mild confusion crossing his features. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head.
"Wait, what?" Ren asked, staring at her. "Yuki told me you specifically asked for me to give you a visit before we headed out to the Tombs. I thought you had some grand, final medical checkup planned, or maybe some highly classified advice on how to deal with Tengen's barriers."
Shoko blinked. The thick fog of bone-deep exhaustion seemed to clear for a split second as her brain finally caught up to the conversation.
"Oh," she murmured, letting out a short, tired exhale. "Right. Yeah. That."
Without moving from her comfortable slump against the wall, she raised a hand and lazily pointed a single finger toward the far corner of the room.
Sitting on a cluttered metal countertop, wedged between a stack of manila folders and a box of sterile surgical gloves, was a sleek, ridiculously high-end espresso machine. Ren had dragged it down into the morgue for her a few weeks before the Shibuya incident.
"The machine," Shoko stated flatly. "It's broken."
Ren slowly turned his head to look at the countertop, then looked back at her. "The coffee maker."
"It's making a horrific grinding noise. Sounds exactly like a dying cursed spirit," Shoko clarified, her tone deadpan but carrying the absolute gravity of a woman running entirely on caffeine and spite. "It refuses to froth the milk, and the last shot it pulled tasted like actual battery acid."
Ren just stared at her. For a split second, he looked like he was about to point out the sheer, ridiculous absurdity of the situation, and he was being deployed as morgue IT support.
But looking at the heavy, dark bruises under her eyes, he swallowed the remark entirely.
Instead, a smooth, easy smirk returned to his lips. He pushed off the autopsy table and walked over to the cluttered countertop, casually rolling up the ash-stained sleeves of his jacket.
"For my favorite doctor?" Ren said, his voice dropping into a warm, effortless drawl as he inspected the front panel of the machine. "Anything. Let's get this fixed."
It took him barely three minutes.
Ren popped the side panel off the machine, cleared a stubborn jam in the burr grinder, and violently purged a week's worth of calcified buildup from the steam wand. With a practiced flick of his wrist, he recalibrated the pressure dial, packed a fresh puck of grounds, and flipped the switch.
Instead of a horrific death rattle, the machine let out a smooth, quiet purr. A thick, dark stream of espresso cascaded into a ceramic mug, instantly filling the sterile air of the morgue with the rich, heavy aroma of dark roast.
He quickly steamed a splash of milk, poured it in, and walked back over to where Shoko was still slumped against the wall.
"Here," Ren said, holding the steaming mug out to her.
Shoko took it with both hands, letting the ceramic heat soak directly into her cold palms. She brought it to her lips, blew away a faint wisp of steam, and took a long, slow sip.
Her eyes slid shut. A profound, shuddering sigh of absolute relief escaped her chest. The brutal, jagged tension that had been locking her spine into place for the last eight days completely dissolved as the caffeine and warmth hit her system.
Shoko lowered the mug. Steam curled around her tired face. Her eyes drifted to his forearms, exposed where he had casually rolled up the ash-stained sleeves of his jacket.
The skin was completely smooth.
"Your burns. How did you fix them?"
Ren leaned back against the cluttered metal countertop. "I drank water."
Shoko stopped. She just stared at him over the ceramic rim.
"Stayed hydrated," Ren added. "Eight glasses a day. They healed right up."
The harsh fluorescent lights buzzed steadily above them. She looked at his unblemished arms, then back up to his face.
"Right. Water."
"Works wonders."
She took another slow sip of the dark roast. He was completely full of it, but the espresso was too good and she was way too tired to care. She let the heat soak into her cold hands and leaned her head back against the wall.
Shoko kept her head tipped back against the cold wall. She stared blankly at the buzzing fluorescent ceiling tiles.
"Do me a favor and die quickly, would you?"
Ren stopped wiping down the espresso machine. He tossed the rag onto the metal counter.
"Then I can die right after," she added. Her voice was completely hollow. "Everything is getting incredibly boring anyway."
Ren crossed his arms. He tilted his head, studying her exhausted posture.
"Why do I have to go first?"
Shoko didn't answer. She just blew a wisp of steam off her coffee and took another slow sip.
A slow, wicked smirk crept onto his face. He pushed off the counter and took a step closer.
"Wait." He dropped his voice into a warm, effortless drawl. "Have you actually developed feelings for me? You just can't bear the thought of living in a world without me?"
Shoko didn't even blink. She just let the silence stretch, taking another slow, deliberate sip from her mug.
"Don't flatter yourself," she said, her voice completely flat. "You're a kid. Way too young for me."
Ren just stood there, perfectly comfortable under her deadpan stare.
"And besides," she added, her heavy eyes drifting back up to the ceiling tiles. "I've never had any interest in that relationship garbage anyway. It's a massive waste of energy."
He didn't back off. Instead, the wicked smirk on his face just widened. He took another slow step closer, closing the distance until he was standing right over her.
"Are you sure?" Ren murmured, his voice dropping into a low, effortless drawl. He leaned down slightly, trapping her gaze. "Am I really not handsome enough to shake that belief?"
///
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