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“Why did you do this, Ai-chan?”Mahiru's eyes are trembling, scared things. Ai recognizes the look, but she never thought it would be directed at her. Shaking hands, unsteady, as they fiddle with her camera still around her neck. Ai feels a flash of something like envy, hot and heavy, an impulse to grab the camera and break it. Ai loves Mahiru's photography, but she wishes—she wishes that Mahiru would take comfort in her instead. Her eyes are scared.Ai breathes in sharply, and reaches out. Her hands are rough and calloused from archery (a useless skill not even good enough to make her an Ultimate, and Ai knows that all she is, all she'll ever be, is inadequate) but they are gentle when they seize Mahiru's own. “I did it for you,” she answers, raw and honest, and Mahiru's eyes flit up to meet her own for the first time in this conversation.“You shouldn't have,” Mahiru murmurs. “I'm not worth it.”“Of course you are ,” Ai disagrees, fierce and vehement. “I'd do anything for you, Mahiru. I don't regret it.”Mahiru startles in her hold, hands jerking like they want to pull away. “You don't regret it?”“ No ,” Ai says, bright and bold and the truth, “Because it was to protect you .”“I didn't ask for that protection. I didn't ask for anything !”“I know,” Ai whispers, “That's why I give it to you.”Mahiru cries. Hitching, heaving sobs, as she curls her hands around her own. Ai's heart breaks; even beyond the grave, Natsumi is still making her cry.“I wish you would love yourself, Ai-chan,” Mahiru whispers back.Over head, a crow caws.