The air was thick with tension, every breath weighed down by the invisible gravity of what was about to happen. Kouko's question hung in the air like a fragile thread.
"What do you mean, too late?"
Her voice trembled, a desperate plea for clarity, but deep down, she already knew. She didn't want to face it, didn't want to believe the truth that clawed at the edges of her mind.
The answer came—not in words, but in the weight of silence.
Haru's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he exhaled sharply. "It's happening."
A realization, not a warning.
Kouko turned to him, her pulse hammering in her ears. "Then stop it!" she demanded, voice rising with urgency. "We can't just let this happen!"
Rina bit her lip, her fingers gripping the hem of her sleeve so tightly her knuckles turned white. "Kouko… we can't."
Daiki, usually the most reckless of them, stood rigid, his fists curled at his sides. "It's already out of our hands."
Kouko shook her head. "That's not an answer!"
But then—she saw it.
The way the crowd had formed, as if by some unspoken agreement, enclosing Ili and Tatsuya in an unbreakable circle.
No teachers. No security.
No one stepping in.
It was as if the universe itself had sanctioned this fight, a collision that couldn't be undone.
Haru spoke again, voice low but firm. "If we interfere now, it'll only get worse."
"Worse?!" Kouko hissed, barely holding back a sob. "How could it possibly be worse?"
Haru's throat bobbed. "Because Ili needs this."
Kouko froze.
"He needs to fight back, Kouko," Mika murmured. "If we stop him now… then Tatsuya wins without even throwing a punch."
Kouko's chest tightened. She turned to Ili, who stood motionless, his gaze locked on Tatsuya like a blade waiting to be unsheathed.
She could see it—the shift in his posture, the silent rage crackling beneath his skin like an electric current.
This was inevitable.
And she hated it.
Ili turned to her, his expression hardened, his eyes blazing with a mix of determination and warning. "Kouko," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "Stand back. This fight is between him and me."
Her breath caught. "Ili, no. You don't have to do this—"
"I do." His voice was resolute. "I appreciate what you did for me last time. You saved me when I couldn't save myself. But this time…"
His gaze shifted to Tatsuya, his fists clenching. "This time, it ends here."
Kouko hesitated, her hands trembling as she clutched the strap of her bag. "Ili…"
"Go, Kouko!" His voice cracked like a whip, leaving no room for argument. "Just leave."
She stepped back reluctantly, her eyes filling with a mix of fear and helplessness.
Ili turned away from her, unbuttoning his shirt with deliberate precision. He shrugged off his jacket, letting it fall to the ground, and rolled up his sleeves. Every movement was calm, calculated, but the air around him buzzed with a barely contained storm.
Tatsuya smirked, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. "So, you finally decided to show some spine," he said, his tone mocking. "Let's see if you can back it up."
The bystanders who had gathered fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone like a vice. It was nerve-wracking, the kind of tension that made every second feel like an eternity.
Kouko took one last look at Ili—one last desperate plea in her eyes.
But deep down…
She knew there was no stopping this now.
The bystanders who had gathered fell silent.
the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone like a vice.
It was nerve-wracking, the kind of tension that made every second feel like an eternity.
...
...
...
...
Then it happened.
Tatsuya moved first.
Fast.
His foot dug into the ground as he lunged, his movements razor-sharp.
His fist cut through the air, aiming straight for Ili's jaw.
Ili reacted instinctively.
He ducked, the wind from the strike whipping past his ear.
A counter—Ili's leg snapped up, a precise side kick aimed at Tatsuya's ribs.
Impact.
Tatsuya stumbled back, but barely.
He twisted his body, rolling with the blow, his balance impeccable.
Then—
He grinned.
A low, amused chuckle left his lips.
"You've been holding back."
Tatsuya rolled his shoulder, cracking his neck.
His tone was almost playful.
But his eyes—
His eyes were something else.
Cold. Calculating.
Predatory.
"Not bad for a coward."
Ili's jaw tightened.
No words.
Just focus.
His stance shifted slightly—his feet firm, his breathing steady.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was a test.
Tatsuya moved again.
This time—faster.
His footwork was smooth, deceptive.
**A feint—**his right hand twitched forward—but it was bait.
Ili caught it.
He dodged left, just in time—
Only for Tatsuya's real attack to come from below.
A low sweeping kick—Ili barely leaped over it, twisting midair—
Tatsuya was already there.
He met Ili in the air, grabbing his wrist, using his own momentum against him.
Ili flipped mid-fall, landing hard on one knee.
He felt the force rattle up his spine.
Tatsuya didn't let up.
He drove forward, his knee snapping toward Ili's head.
Ili blocked—barely.
The impact jarred his arms, the sheer power forcing him back.
Tatsuya wasn't just fast.
He was precise.
Every attack was designed to exploit an opening.
And worse—he was enjoying this.
The smirk on his face never wavered.
Even as Ili's fist finally connected—
A clean jab to his jaw.
A sickening crack.
Tatsuya's head snapped back.
For a moment—he swayed.
Then—
He laughed.
Low, dark, almost… delighted.
"That's more like it."
He wiped the blood from his lip, eyes gleaming.
Ili's stomach twisted.
What kind of guy enjoys this?
Tatsuya's demeanor shifted.
His muscles tensed, coiled.
And then he moved.
Ili barely saw it.
One second—Tatsuya was standing there.
The next—
He was in front of him.
Ili barely got his guard up before Tatsuya's fist drove into his gut.
A solid, brutal hit.
Ili's breath left his lungs in a sharp exhale.
Before he could recover—
Tatsuya grabbed his collar and twisted—
Flipping Ili midair—
Then—slamming him into the pavement.
"Ili, stop!"
Kouko's voice cut through the air.
She had been frozen, watching the fight unfold.
But now—
Watching Tatsuya move like that—
Watching Ili struggle against something that felt… familiar—
A cold, horrible sensation crept up her spine.
Why…
Why does this feel like I've seen it before?
Her nails dug into her palms.
Why does this feel like it already happened?
Tatsuya's grip on his collar tightened.
Ili gritted his teeth.
His body screamed in pain.
But pain wasn't new.
And he wasn't done.
His leg shot up—
A sharp, unexpected knee straight into Tatsuya's ribs.
A crack.
Tatsuya let go.
Ili rolled away, flipping back to his feet.
His breath was ragged.
But his stance was steady.
Tatsuya exhaled, his hand pressing to his side.
For the first time—his smirk faded.
And something new replaced it.
Annoyance.
"You're tougher than I thought."
His voice lost its mockery.
Tatsuya rolled his shoulders.
His smirk returned—but this time, it was different.
Less playful.
More sinister.
He cracked his knuckles, shaking his head.
"See, this is why you're such a pain."
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"You don't know when to stay down."
There was something unsettling about the way he said it.
Like he was… disappointed.
Not that Ili had fought back.
But that Ili was still standing.
Like he wanted to break him.
Not just win.
But break him completely.
Tatsuya's attacks became more ruthless, more violent.
The precision in his movements was still there, but his smirk was gone—replaced by raw, seething rage.
His fists cut through the air like blades, each strike laced with the intent to end this.
Ili dodged—barely.
A fist whizzed past his jaw, missing by mere inches.
Ili countered instantly.
A brutal knee strike—straight to Tatsuya's ribs.
A sickening thud.
Tatsuya staggered back, gasping for air.
But even as pain rippled through him—he laughed.
Blood dripped from his split lip.
He wiped it away with the back of his hand, his eyes dark, burning.
"You're tougher than you look."
Tatsuya's voice was strained but still brimming with venom.
"But it doesn't matter. I finish what I start."
Ili held his ground.
His breath steady.
His gaze cold. Unyielding.
"You've already lost, Tatsuya."
His voice was calm—but beneath it, there was fury.
Fury that had been building since the moment this all began.
"This ends now."
Tatsuya lunged again—this time with everything he had.
Faster. Harder.
His fists were wild, desperate.
But Ili's movements were calm. Precise.
He met each attack head-on.
A punch to his ribs—Ili twisted, absorbing the impact.
A knee strike toward his stomach—Ili dodged, shifting to the side.
Then—he saw it.
An opening.
Tatsuya's stance—too aggressive, too forward.
Now.
Ili struck.
A spinning backhand—his knuckles crashed into Tatsuya's jaw.
The impact snapped Tatsuya's head to the side.
For a split second—his body swayed.
Then—
CRACK.
Ili's foot drove into his chest with a thunderous roundhouse kick.
The air ripped with the force of it.
Tatsuya's body slammed into the pavement.
Hard.
Before Ili could take another step—
"Stop it! Both of you!"
Kouko's voice cut through the air.
Desperate. Trembling.
She rushed toward them, tears streaking her face.
Her hands outstretched, shaking.
"Please!"
Her voice cracked.
"This isn't the way!"
For the first time—Ili hesitated.
His chest heaved.
His fists loosened.
His eyes met hers—and suddenly, the fire inside him cooled.
Just a little.
Then—
Tatsuya's eyes flickered.
He saw the hesitation.
And he took it.
Like a venomous snake striking its prey—
He lunged.
His fist cut through the air.
Straight for Ili's ribs.
But Ili moved on instinct.
The moment the punch nearly connected—
Ili twisted, sidestepped, and struck back.
One motion. One perfect counter.
His heel drove into Tatsuya's chest—brutal and final.
The impact sent Tatsuya sprawling across the pavement.
The echo of his body hitting the ground rippled through the courtyard.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
The crowd watched in stunned disbelief.
Kouko Tries to Intervene (But Tatsuya's Backup Arrives)
Kouko rushed forward again—
But she never reached Ili.
Two figures appeared from the crowd.
Dark, looming.
Tatsuya's allies.
The ones who had been lurking in the shadows.
One of them grabbed Kouko's wrist.
"Back off."
His voice was cold. Unfazed.
Kouko struggled, panic flaring in her chest.
"Let go of me!"
Mika and Rina tried to move forward—
But the other guy stepped in, blocking them.
Haru's face twisted with alarm.
"Kouko—"
Ili turned sharply, his blood running cold.
"Get your hands off her."
His voice was low. Dangerous.
The guy holding Kouko's wrist smirked.
"Relax. We're just making sure she doesn't get in the way."
Ili's fists clenched.
The sheer rage in his chest threatened to consume him.
But before he could move—
Tatsuya coughed.
His voice was hoarse.
"Let them go."
His allies hesitated, then released Kouko.
She stumbled back, her breath ragged.
The moment she was free—she ran straight to Ili, grabbing his arm.
"Please," she whispered. "This is done. Let's go."
Ili didn't move.
Not yet.
His gaze locked onto Tatsuya—who still lay on the ground.
His face was unreadable.
But his eyes—
His eyes were seething with something dark.
Tatsuya gritted his teeth.
He slowly sat up, clutching his ribs.
Even defeated, he still looked at Ili with the same twisted smirk.
But this time—it wasn't arrogance.
It was something deeper.
Something unsettled.
Something unfinished.
"This isn't over."
The words weren't a threat.
They were a promise.
Ili didn't reply.
He just turned away.
With Kouko's grip still tight on his arm, he walked past the gathered crowd.
Past the whispers.
Past the fear.
Past the lingering sense that this fight—
Was just the beginning.
Aftermath:
The tension still clung to the air, thick and suffocating, even as Tatsuya struggled to his feet. His smirk had twisted into something uglier—a grimace of pain, his jaw tight with barely concealed fury. He wiped the blood from his lip, his eyes darkening as he met Ili's unwavering gaze.
"This isn't over," he hissed, voice laced with venom. "You'll regret this."
Ili didn't respond. He only turned away, his shoulders tense, his knuckles still curled from the fight. His chest heaved with every breath, but he forced himself to stay steady. No satisfaction. No triumph. Just exhaustion.
As he passed Kouko, their eyes met for only a fleeting second. Her expression was unreadable, but something in her gaze clung to him. He almost stopped. Almost said something.
But instead, he walked past her, past the others—past everything.
Kouko's grip tightened at her sides, her heart still racing from the aftermath. But it wasn't just the fight that unsettled her. It was Haru's whisper.
"We're too late."
Her fingers curled around the strap of her bag. Too late for what?
"If he keeps digging... this won't end well."
The words rattled inside her, coiling like vines around her heart.
She glanced at Ili again, but he was already stepping further away. His movements were rigid, restrained. And then, without looking back, he gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand off him.
His touch wasn't rough. It wasn't cruel.
But it was final.
"Just leave me alone for a while," he said. His voice was low, not cold, but not warm either. A bittersweet smile tugged at his lips—one that hurt more than any glare ever could.
Kouko hesitated, her breath catching.
And then, before she could find the words to stop him—he was gone.
What have we done?
The courtyard emptied slowly, but Ili felt the weight of every lingering stare.
He kept walking, his footsteps slow, measured—not because he wasn't in a hurry, but because if he stopped moving, he wasn't sure if he could hold himself together.
From behind, he could still hear their voices. Haru, Mika, Rina, Daiki, Kouko. He knew they were watching. He knew they were whispering.
"Ili," Haru started cautiously.
But Ili didn't let him finish.
"No," he cut in, his voice tight. "Just... leave me alone."
The words came out sharper than he intended.
Silence.
He felt it—Kouko lingering a little longer than the others. She wasn't saying anything, but he could feel her stare pressing against his back, like she was trying to see through him.
But he kept walking.
The further he went, the quieter the voices became.
Until he was truly alone.
Only then did his footsteps slow.
Only then did he feel how hard it was to breathe.
By the edge of a shaded path, he stopped. His hands trembled slightly, his knuckles raw from the fight. He leaned against the nearest tree, shutting his eyes for a moment.
He could still hear it. The sickening sound of fists meeting flesh, the venom in Tatsuya's smirk, Kouko's panicked voice trying to stop him.
"Dammit," he muttered, pressing his thumb against his temple. His head pounded.
And then—
"Ili."
His breath hitched.
He turned.
Kouko stood a few steps away, her expression soft, but determined.
"I thought I told you—"
"You did," she interrupted, stepping closer. "But I couldn't just leave you like this."
She wasn't pleading. She wasn't timid.
She was just there.
Before he could protest, her fingers gently wrapped around his wrist.
He stiffened.
Her grip was light, careful. Not like she was holding onto him—more like she was reminding him that she was still there.
"Come on," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Let's clean you up."
The school restroom was empty, the overhead lights buzzing softly.
Ili went alone to the restroom.
Ili leaned over the sink, twisting the faucet on. The cool water hit his hands first, stinging against the raw bruises on his knuckles. He didn't react. He just let the water run, staring at the swirling droplets as they disappeared down the drain.
Behind him, Kouko lingered outside the door.
She fidgeted, her fingers twisting the hem of her sleeve.
She could hear the water running.
The seconds stretched.
Then—a faint clatter.
She stiffened.
Something had fallen. Maybe a bottle, maybe Ili's bag—maybe something worse.
"Ili?" she called softly.
No response.
Her stomach twisted.
She took a deep breath and pushed open the door.
"I'm coming in," she warned, voice cautious but resolute.
Ili was leaning against the sink, his head slightly lowered, his hands braced on the edge of the counter. Droplets of water clung to his jaw, sliding down in slow, uneven paths.
When he looked up, his expression wasn't anger, or frustration, or even exhaustion.
It was just... tired.
"Kouko," he said, his voice rasping slightly. "What are you—"
"You're struggling," she cut in gently.
She stepped forward, hesitated for only a moment, then picked up a clean towel and held it out to him.
"Here."
He stared at it.
At her.
Then, after a long moment, he reached out and took it.
She stayed beside him as he dabbed at his face, then his hands, then his knuckles.
"You don't have to do this," he muttered.
"I know," she replied simply.
But she didn't move.
And he didn't ask her to.
When he was done, she turned the faucet back on, soaking another towel. Without a word, she took his bruised hands in hers.
He flinched slightly.
Not because it hurt.
But because her touch was too careful. Too gentle.
She started cleaning the wounds, slow and precise, like she didn't want to hurt him.
"You really don't know how to hold back, do you?" she murmured, a faint, almost sad smile playing at her lips.
"I didn't have a choice," he admitted, his voice low.
Kouko didn't reply. She just focused on his wounds, on him.
Her fingers brushed against his wrist, and he stiffened again—but didn't pull away.
Why does she still care?
Finally, she spoke, her voice softer than before.
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, barely above a whisper.
Kouko paused.
Then, she met his gaze.
"Because you needed someone," she said simply.
"And you won't let anyone else in."
Something deep inside him lurched.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then—
As Kouko continued dabbing at his wounds, her touch light yet deliberate, Ili's fingers trembled slightly beneath hers. His breathing was shallow, uneven, as if he was holding something back.
And then, finally—he broke.
"It hurts," he whispered.
His voice was raw, barely audible. **Not because of the bruises, not because of the fight—**but something deeper. Something he had been carrying for far too long.
Kouko froze.
For a split second, she thought she had hurt him, that she had pressed too hard. But when she lifted her gaze, her breath caught.
Ili wasn't talking about the physical pain.
His eyes, dark and unfocused, held an exhaustion she hadn't seen before. A pain she couldn't touch, but could feel in the weight of his voice.
And then, a single tear slipped down his cheek.
It was quiet. Unnoticed, maybe, by anyone else.
But not by her.
Kouko swallowed, her throat tightening.
She didn't say, "It's okay."
She didn't say, "You'll be fine."
Instead, she simply reached for his hand—the one she had just finished cleaning—and gave it the slightest squeeze.
Ili blinked slowly, exhaling a shaky breath. His grip curled around hers, just for a second.
Then, in a voice so soft it almost disappeared into the silence—
"Thank you."
And for the first time in what felt like forever—
He meant it.
Kouko squeezed the towel in her hands before setting it aside.
She smiled—soft, steady, warm.
"Come on," she said, nodding toward the door.
"Let's get some air."
Ili hesitated.
His gaze flickered to the window, where the sky stretched in muted shades of blue and silver.
Then, after a long moment, he stood.
And for the first time in days—
The night air felt just a little lighter.
The walk away from the restroom was quiet, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Kouko walked beside Ili, matching his pace without saying much. Occasionally, she glanced at him, her expression unreadable, thoughtful—like she wanted to say something but was giving him the space to speak first.
Ili wasn't sure why, but he appreciated that.
The night air was cool against his skin, crisp with the lingering scent of rain from earlier in the evening. Their footsteps echoed faintly in the near-empty corridor, the campus quieter than usual as the weight of the past few days settled between them.
Finally, Kouko broke the silence.
"You've been quiet," she said, her tone light, almost teasing, but laced with something softer—concern.
Ili kept his gaze ahead. "I usually am."
She huffed dramatically. "Okay, fair, but you're worse than usual. You're sulking."
"I don't sulk."
"You do," she countered, crossing her arms. "And you're terrible at hiding it."
Still, no response.
Kouko let out a dramatic sigh, throwing her hands up. "Alright, tough crowd. How about this? There's this cake shop I saw on social media—apparently, it has the most amazing strawberry shortcake. We should check it out."
Ili gave her a sideways glance, his brow raising slightly. "Cake?"
"Yes, cake." She turned toward him fully, eyes gleaming with a mix of mischief and genuine excitement. "You like sweets, don't you?"
"… I don't dislike them."
Kouko beamed, taking that as a victory. "Perfect. Then it's settled."
Ili hesitated. His mind still felt heavy, weighed down by everything—the fight, the rumors, the exhaustion pressing at his ribs like a dull ache.
But then he looked at Kouko.
At the way she smiled so easily, like she was offering him a moment of normalcy in the storm. And despite himself, he found that he didn't want to refuse.
"…Alright."
Kouko lit up. "See? You do have a voice. I'm glad."
The warm scent of vanilla and freshly baked pastries greeted them as they stepped inside the small, softly lit shop. The space was cozy, the kind of place meant for quiet moments—students studying in corners, a couple sharing a dessert near the window, low jazz music humming in the background.
Kouko, however, had only one thing on her mind.
She practically glued herself to the display case, her hands pressed against the glass like a child at a toy store. "Look at these," she whispered, eyes wide in awe. "Everything looks amazing."
Ili stood behind her, his expression mildly amused. "Are you planning on ordering everything?"
"Tempting," she admitted, grinning. Then she pointed decisively at a slice of strawberry shortcake. "But this is the one. It's their specialty."
Ili smirked faintly. "You've already decided for me?"
"Of course," she replied smoothly. "I have good taste."
He sighed but didn't argue. They placed their orders and found a small table by the window, where the golden glow of streetlights filtered through the glass. The world outside felt distant, muted, while inside, the warmth of the café wrapped around them like a quiet embrace.
As they ate, Kouko kept the conversation light. She talked about a silly debate she had with Mika earlier that day, how Daiki nearly spilled coffee on his notes during their group study session, and how Rina had somehow managed to convince a professor to extend their deadline.
Ili listened, his initial tension easing with every word. He hadn't realized how much he'd needed something this simple.
Then, midway through their desserts, Kouko's fork slowly, sneakily inched toward his plate.
Ili caught it instantly.
His hand moved before he even thought about it, swatting her fork away with a soft clink. "Get your own."
Kouko gasped, offended. "I was just testing if it was better than mine!"
Ili scoffed, shaking his head. "You picked it. Live with your choice."
She pouted dramatically but relented, returning to her own slice. Then, out of nowhere, she said something that caught him completely off guard.
"There it is."
Ili blinked. "There's what?"
Kouko didn't even think before she spoke. "That smile. I missed that smile of yours."
The words left her lips so naturally, so effortlessly, that it took her a second to realize what she had just said.
Her eyes widened slightly, the weight of her own words crashing into her like a delayed impact. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
"I—I mean—" She quickly looked down at her cake, suddenly finding it very interesting. The spoon in her hand fidgeted as she jabbed at the cream, her posture stiffening. "It's just—uh—"
She cleared her throat, avoiding Ili's gaze like it might set her on fire. "It's been a while since I saw it, that's all! D-Don't take it the wrong way!"
But Ili didn't say anything.
His fork had halted mid-air.
Kouko peeked up at him, still flustered, her lips pressing together as she fidgeted in her seat. The corner of his mouth twitched, almost like he was holding back a reaction—amusement? Surprise? She couldn't tell.
That only made her more embarrassed.
She groaned softly, covering her face with one hand. "Ugh, forget I said anything."
"…I missed that smile of yours."
The sentence echoed in her head again, making her stomach twist with nervous energy.
Why did she have to say it like that?
She snuck another glance at Ili, expecting him to tease her, maybe smirk in that frustratingly unreadable way he did sometimes.
But he didn't.
Instead, he looked at her. Really looked at her.
His fingers curled slightly around his fork, the warmth from the shop pressing against the cold edges of his lingering exhaustion.
Then, to her absolute horror—
"…Thanks for this," he said finally, his voice quieter, more sincere than she expected.
Kouko felt her breath catch.
He wasn't making fun of her. He wasn't brushing it off.
He actually… meant it.
A strange warmth bloomed in her chest, something too big, too real for her to process.
Her fingers curled into the edge of her sleeve, pressing against the fabric in a desperate attempt to ground herself. She needed to say something, anything—
But all she could do was nod, her face still red, her voice barely above a whisper.
"…Anytime."
The moment stretched between them—not too heavy, not too light—just right.
For the first time in weeks, Ili felt something shift inside him.
A quiet hope. Fleeting, but real.
And for now…
This moment was enough.
But the moment lingered a little too long.
Kouko suddenly felt the weight of it, her heart pounding against her ribs. The silence was stretching—oh no, it's getting awkward, do something!
In a panic-fueled impulse, she blurted out—
"I-I mean, it's not like I stare at you or anything!"
…
A slow blink.
Ili raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Kouko's soul left her body.
WHY DID I SAY THAT?!
"I—I mean—" She waved her hands frantically, cheeks burning. "I don't, like, track your expressions or anything weird! It's just—"
Digging deeper. She was digging deeper.
Ili just… stared.
"…Kouko."
She froze.
His lips twitched.
Not teasing. Not smirking.
But smiling.
A real, genuine smile.
Her breath hitched.
And that's when she grabbed her drink, took a giant sip, and refused to look at him.
Ili watched her, amused.
Kouko was practically hiding behind her cup, the straw trembling slightly in her mouth as she tried to regain any form of dignity.
"…Are you good?" Ili finally asked.
Kouko, still red, refused to lower the cup.
"…Mm-hmm."
Ili let out a low chuckle, shaking his head slightly.
The warmth between them lingered, softer now—lighter.
And for the first time in days, Kouko didn't mind making a fool of herself.
Because he was smiling again.
And somehow… that made it worth it.