Ren has done a lot of unquestionably courageous things during the past year. He has a deep enough reserve of Guts to stare down Shadows and yakuza and literal gods without flinching, but the idea of making a simple confession that he’s angry and hurt because even after everything he and Akechi have been through together, Ren apparently isn’t very important to him - this is the thing that leaves him silently wishing to be swallowed up by quicksand.

Akechi was easier to navigate when Ren believed he only wanted to see him dead.

“Dancing’s more Sumire’s thing than mine.”

There’s much less bite in his tone this time, but it’s still not a straightforward answer. It’s still a joke wielded as a distraction from discomfort, though half-hearted. Ren absently rubs a hand against the back of his head. If he doesn’t choose his words carefully right now, he thinks a fight is likely to start between them.

“Look, I promised you a duel, and I intend to keep that promise. But I’d rather not do it right now. I did just get here.”

He needs time to sort through his feelings, time to mourn the previous perception of his standing with Akechi. Time to finish falling apart so he can finally put himself back together again. This was something Ren would need to do alone, but once it was done, he would be fine again.

Probably.