This again. But Ren is finding it hard to be angry, or even concentrate, when Akechi is this close. He licks his lips and tries to remember what he wants to say.

"Why, uh. Why can't you—"

A silent gunshot blows a hole through the middle of Akechi's forehead. Ren jerks back with a strangled noise as blood starts to trickle down over his eyelids, his sharp cheekbones and his clever mouth, his slack jaw. Beside Ren, half-unseen, a ghost of himself removes a suppressor from a gun with steady hands and tucks them both into his jeans. Then, stepping forward, the other Ren twists and morphs into Shido, looming larger than life, with a tailored suit and tinted glasses and a familiar, cruel smile as he turns to face Ren. Without breaking eye contact, Shido tilts his head towards Akechi's corpse. Take a look at your work.

He doesn't want to. He doesn't want to. He wants to—to run, to turn the gun on himself so he never has to see it again—

His eyes slide back to Akechi. Blood obscures half his face, now. Ren can see into his head, past jagged edges of bone to what was Akechi's brain once, probably. He doesn't know. He's never seen brains before. He didn't imagine so much blood.