The corpse comes closer, leaning into Ren's face, jaw hanging, eyes blind, caked in black blood and pink matter from the hole in its head. It takes Ren's hand in its own—its warm, perfectly dry hand—and presses it into the mass of blood.

It feels like skin. Warm, living human skin. Akechi's hair brushes Ren's hand, soft as silk.

it's me ren it's me i'm here