Togusa's memory of how much the two women quietly didn't get along fuels the scene. He knew, he always knew, but he tried to keep his damn mouth shut to keep from making things worse or trying to pick a side. It was never jealousy between the women, just personalities too similar and too apart at the same time: similar attitudes driven by motivations too disparate for them to ever get along.

So Misaki pushes her glasses up on her nose. "When did I ever fit? Was there ever a time I really fit into the plan Hitori had for his life, or was I just a placeholder? a puzzle piece that fit well enough to go into a spot he had set aside for me?"

"That's enough," comes out of Togusa, but it's not very strong.

Misaki plows ahead anyway. "Even now, the shape of the piece has changed, but I'm just a filler." Her eyes flick to Togusa. "You won't figure this out unless you see what I'm actually doing here."

The cruelty, the bluntness, it's tinted with their last argument, the overriding way that Togusa remembers Misaki. So much of the good in their relationship is a more distant memory. This side of her is too strong.