But that piece that doesn't fit, it's still there. And because I don't lose it in the mix with the others, because it's not in the completed puzzle, I keep it. I find where I keep things I like, and I set that piece on the shelf. So I can find it, again and again, and delight in it. That's if I don't turn it into a necklace and keep it close that way, or put it in the pocket over my heart.

[because she is herself, and because things that are not quite fitting in aren't immediately worthy of disposal. she gets his point, that he'd push another to exert themselves to find the best solution, the best outcome, but does that mean that his role is over? no. it does not mean he is not still cherished for his existence alone. she's made her decision, and even if others think it silly, the more adamant she becomes, the more compassion flows out.

she can tell when loneliness clings to someone, sticky as tree sap and as difficult to remove. and Nagito has tipped his hand, over and over again. because he cares, he pushes away. because he cares, he does things that others will not, cannot. his words are a maze to some, but to a mind that has spent years surrounding herself with metaphor and allusion and details, they are as easy as if they were spelled out beneath her hands.]

Because I want to enjoy it for its own sake. For the fact that it exists at all.