For fuck's sake. Okumura herself didn't confront him so blatantly. "Okumura had it coming. If you tell me otherwise, I'll know you're full of shit."

They've arrived at the entrance to Takazakaya, with its gilded arch and its immaculately dressed windows; the closest entrance will take them through the beauty department. Akechi takes it, ignoring the fussing cognitions nearby. The sushi concession, strictly invite-only, is on the top floor.

He makes his way past branded makeup counters, glancing at the skincare displays as they go. "Getting myself killed wasn't an option. Cutting things short wasn't an option. I take it we're not here to judge my priorities."