It all happened so fast.
I felt myself sinking into the darkness when I should have been falling. My body was going down, down, down, yet it did so slowly, as if I was surrounded by thick mud.
The opening which I had come from was getting smaller and smaller, its light getting farther and farther away. Arms flailing, I tried to reach for the light. All that I got were delayed movements, almost as if time itself had slowed.
Makahadoma.
I tried to erase her words as soon as they came to mind.
With the light now just a speckle in the distance, I felt something that I hadn't felt in a long while. No, fear wasn't the word for it.
I was beginning to feel...desperate.
My entire body was now urging itself to reach the light. I screamed in the hopes that somebody would hear me. My heart stopped once I realized that I couldn't hear my one voice.
Slowly but surely, the light disappeared from sight. I could feel the desperation get replaced by hopelessness. Thoughts of death and disappearing from the world began to take over my consciousness.
"But wasn't this what you signed up for?"
Yeah, that's right, wasn't it? I should have been prepared to die as soon as I had signed up to be an assassin. That was part of the job, wasn't it?
That was what joining Night Raid had entailed, right?
That was why everybody else had to die, right?
Suddenly, the thought of dying wasn't so bad. The expectation of being able to rest once and for all was actually quite comforting. I suddenly found myself chuckling. Maybe I'd get to meet them all in heaven. I'd walk through two big doors and find myself in front of a banquet, with everybody eating to their hearts' content. Sheele would have a serene look on her face as she would watch Chelsea enrage Mine; Bulat, Lubbock, and Susanoo would all be catching up with each other, with Bulat and Susanoo agreeing on a lot of things (to Lubbock's dismay); then Leone would approach me and invite me to sit beside her to join her in the feast. I'd sit in front of a huge platter of meat that stacked 2 stories high, and to my left, Leone would be chugging on as much beer as she could.
Then a small hand would pull on the hem of my skirt. I'd look to my right and—
Kurome. Oh my god it's Kurome. She's here. She's here beside me.
Kurome would smile at me. Her smile was the best thing in the world: it was never ecstatic, but it was so pure and content, as if everything was alright with the world. She'd pass me her little pouch of biscuits and invite me to eat some.
I'd be speechless as I'd get some biscuits from the pouch. I'd gingerly eat one, and joy would fill my body. All of the pain and suffering that I had endured for my entire life would suddenly disappear in that instant. The burden of all of those that I had killed would suddenly let me free.
A tear would drip down my face. "Welcome home, Onee-chan."
I could feel tears stream down my face. I was supposed to be happy, but all I felt was overwhelming sadness. There was no banquet waiting for the killers of Night Raid, only hell. If that was the case, then I really wasn't going to see any of my comrades ever again. No more Sheele, no more Mine, no more Chelsea, no more Bulat, no more Lubbock, no more Susanoo, no more Leone.
And I definitely wasn't going to see my sister: the girl that I had sent to the inferno myself.
Suddenly, I felt a warmth envelope me. Maybe "envelope" wasn't the word. It was more of an embrace. I could distinctly feel two arms wrap around my chest, their warmth spreading across my entire body.
The warmth stopped my tears. The warmth helped me calm down. The warmth told me that everything was going to be alright.
Then, the warmth brought back memories—memories of a time of innocent heroism; memories of a time when hope was all that was needed to get you to the end.
Memories of a boy who came to the Capital wanting to be a hero for his hometown. Memories of a boy dying in order to save everyone.
"I will not die! I'll certainly stay alive! I'll never make you experience this pain!"
...
Tatsumi? Is that you?
Akame v. Akame
By: WritingAmateur0604
Chapter I: Fate
The sun shined right above the sand-colored houses of Gilgath, its light beating across bronze skin as people bustled through the streets in merry fashion.
The marketplace spoke to all the senses of life—as lively barter and shouts of camaraderie reached from end-to-end, aromas of rare perfumes and fancy desserts mixed with that of bloody cattle to create an atmosphere that kept you awake. In the midst of all of the chaos, one always felt that he was alive.
A cloaked woman made her way through the crowd. Unlike many others who had destinations in mind, this person surveyed the stalls around her at a slow and curious pace. She was taking in every sight and smell, appreciative of how everything seemed to emanate living, breathing energy.
A bare-armed man bumped into the woman, a box of vials almost crashing over. The woman turned to look apologetically at the man, but the man just looked back and laughed before going on his way again.
The woman continued walking forward with a smile on her face. She loved how people in this land were more easy-going, more forgiving of life and all of its everyday mishaps. She hoped that this was an attribute that people back home would inherit.
Reaching the end of the strip for most of the food stalls, the woman took a right to explore the multiple apparel and fabric shops. She would sometimes stop to inspect the materials and feel their unique textures. The shopkeepers were always happy that somebody had come to check out their products, and they were always open to questions and friendly banter. Even if the woman didn't buy anything, the smiles never left the shopkeepers' faces, and what made it even more special for the woman was the thought that those smiles were indeed genuine.
The woman passed a few more stalls and took a few more turns before deciding that she was finished for the day. All in all, she had bought herself a few meters of fabric, some exotic souvenirs for her friends back home, a few perfumes and herbs for her own use, some fruits and native snacks, and a weapon or two. Aside from what she had gotten for her friends, nobody was probably ever going to use what she had just bought, but she had recently begun to forgive her own impulsiveness.
She had also bought a huge kebab for lunch: multiple pork slabs and entire chickens, roasted to a golden brown. What was more surprising than the amount of food was how she was sure that she could finish it all.
As she reached the end of the strip, she came across a shop that was unlike the rest. While many others used handicraft wooden stalls to display their goods, all that this shop had was a low domed tent that you had to bend down to even look into. The tent was made entirely of a canvas so thick that it didn't allow any sunlight to pass through. The woman couldn't even see the other end of the canvas through the dark void of the inside.
What was so disturbing about the shop however, was that as she peered inside, she felt a mysterious aura come from within the tent. Killing intent? No, killing intent was sharper and more virulent, a hungry beast that tried to strike all sorts of feelings into one's soul. Rather, this aura was a dull and heavy pulsating force. If killing intent was a raging fire, this aura was a glowing bulb. Except that the woman could not come to associate the glow with anything relating to light. If anything, it felt like dark force, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere around her.
"Hello traveler. Care to have your fortune told?"
The woman was surprised to see a cloaked man shuffle out of the darkness and sit cross-legged in front of her. She finished up the last of her kebab before sitting in order to be on level with him, yet his cloak prevented her from fully seeing his face. All that she saw behind the cloak was a strong jawline and a thin dry mouth plastered onto blotches of lighter and darker skin. He seemed to have a strong build, but it was hard to tell under all the layers of discolored fabric.
He seemed to be smiling, but the woman couldn't be sure since she couldn't see his eyes. But for some reason, as soon as he did, the mysterious aura disappeared.
"I don't believe in fortune telling," the woman answered. "We all make our own destinies."
The woman fully believed the words that she was speaking. For her, to think that human history was shaped by something like fate was ignorant. If anybody had lived through what she had lived through and seen what she had seen, all of the dreams, hardships, and the fruits of humankind's efforts, she knew that to them, the concept of fate was laughable and foolish. It could even be said that people that believed in fate mocked all of the sacrifices that she had seen people make in order to reach for their dreams.
"Ahhhh. A dreamer I see. Or perhaps, somebody who has already reached their dreams, their goals and aspirations in life?"
The woman smiled, thoughts filling her heart with bliss. "I'm living them out right now."
The man laughed—it was the hoarse laugh of an old man, but it was jolly nonetheless.
"You don't know how much those words fill me with joy. Rarely do I see youth who can confidently say that they've worked hard for their dreams and, after all of their suffering, are living them out in the current day. Did you make a lot of sacrifices on your journey, young miss?"
The woman started to have flashbacks: all of the comrades that she had grown with and shared memories with; all of the battles that they had fought together; all of the grieving that came with their deaths as they died fighting for a brighter future.
The woman smiled with an aching heart. "Yes."
"But was it all worth it?"
The woman then remembered her home country: scenes of houses being rebuilt brick-by-brick; little children rushing to deliver materials and food to help people they didn't know; injured soldiers being released from medical confinement, only to be met with the tears of loved ones.
The woman smiled. "Yes."
Many people died and were forgotten to make this dream a reality, but seeing the smiles of everybody in the end was all worth it.
The old man chuckled. "That's good to hear. I too once made a lot of sacrifices to reach my dream. Sadly, I won't ever get to see its fruits, but seeing people like you assures me that it probably all worked out in the end."
The woman wanted to smile, but something seemed...off about this man. She couldn't tell what, but she knew that something was off.
"But you know, young miss, the voices of fate should not be seen as set destinies or limitations on your journey. Rather, they should be seen as guides: warnings and signs to help you see what life has planned for you and realize what you are being called to do. Of course, you are not obligated to follow these guides, but I find that these guides are always helpful in one aspect or another."
"How much?" The woman decided that she would have to appease the man. She thought that it would be rude to simply leave, and she was curious as to what the man was planning, even if she herself knew that fortune telling was nothing more than a scam.
"Hmmm..." The man went quiet for a few seconds. "Well...would you happen to have a prickly pear? I haven't had lunch yet, you see."
The woman searched through her bags and brought out the requested fruit: it was the size and shape of an avocado, but it had the chartreuse color of the pear and the spikes of a jackfruit. She reached out and carefully handed it to the man, who barely moved his arm from his side to receive it. He then hurriedly picked apart at its skin before taking a munch out of its white insides, chewing and swallowing as if he hadn't eaten in days.
"Huh. Tastes...odd."
The woman couldn't help but scowl. "Wasn't that what you asked for?" she thought.
The man then laid the the fruit beside him on its spikes before reaching behind to grab a pack of cards. He shuffled the cards with ease before laying them all out in front of him in a way that the woman saw the red backsides of each and every card laid out in front of her. The woman also noticed that there were only 22 cards instead of the regular pack of 52 cards.
"Tarot reading," she thought to herself. Ever since the revolution had ended, she had taken the time to learn how to read more complex texts. She would often spend hours in the library, and it is through reading that her interest in foreign cultures was peaked. Tarot reading was one of the things that she just so happened to read up upon.
With that being said, the woman quickly realized something wrong with the clairvoyant's cards: a normal tarot deck had 72 cards, and yet there were only 22 laid out in front of her.
"Let's start off with something simple," the fortune teller announced. "How are your mother and father?"
"I never really got to know my mother and father. They sold me off when I was 5."
A part of her did want to lie to the fortune teller just to put him off his game, but messing with an old man didn't bode too well with her conscience.
"And your sister? How is she?"
"My sister? Well, she's currently living with—"
The woman froze. She never mentioned her sister.
The man laughed his dry hackle. "The fortune telling hasn't even begun."
All of a sudden, the cards began to float off the ground and started to switch positions, their movements swift yet controlled. Bewildered, the woman looked at the man and saw that the only thing that moved were the corners of his lips as they formed into a wide grin. The woman had so many questions as to the man's identity and how he knew her's, but her amazement kept her from asking any of them until the very end.
A single card flew out towards the cloaked man. Barely moving his arm, he caught it with three fingers before pulling it under his cloak for him to examine.
"Ahhh..."
The man let go of the card, allowing it to flow back to its previous mid-air position.
"From what I'm seeing, you're currently in control of your life. You're living out all of your heart's desires as you travel around the world, and you aren't doing it solely to fill up an empty space. In short, you're content, but I guess that you don't need a fortune teller to tell you that."
The man chuckled. The woman stayed silent.
"I can't promise that you'll be content all your life. Nobody probably is. But I can promise you that if you follow your heart, you will continue on a path towards a bright future."
The floating cards began to once again move and switch in a mesmerizing fashion, yet they always stopped perfectly in place as if there was never any momentum.
Another card soon flew out for the cloaked man to catch and examine. The man smiled.
"You seem to have experienced a lot too, more than an average woman your age. The cycle of joy and suffering is no stranger to you. Tell me: have you lost a lot of people in your life?"
Images flashed across her mind: images of former comrades, former friends. Scenes with people whom she went through thick and thin with warmed her heart.
"Yes, I have."
But even though she knew that she would never experience anything with many of those people ever again, she truly was grateful for moments that they shared, however brief they were.
"I see. Condolences."
The man stayed silent. After a moment, he let the card in his hand fly back.
"I expect somebody with as much experience as you to have matured beyond my expectations," the man said as the cards returned to their flashy dance. "I also must warn you however, against being too complacent with what you already know. The world is so much bigger and beautiful than you could ever imagine. Not that I think that you're the prideful type, but I hope that no matter how much you think you already know, you never stop exploring."
The woman nodded courteously to the man, but she was already starting to get a bit impatient. This was beginning to seem more like counseling than fortune telling after all, and her former boss back home already gave her enough of that.
It didn't take long for the next card to fly into the man's fingers. The man seemed just about ready to grin, but he stopped himself from doing so upon viewing the card. Instead, his mouth stayed slightly agape for a moment before closing into a flat line.
The man let the card fly back. Without saying anything, the cards returned to the switching of their positions.
"My apologies," the man said. "Sometimes, it takes more than one draw to form a conclusion. I ask for your patience for the time being."
Soon enough, a fourth card had flown right out of the grid. This time, the man kept a neutral countenance, and even after catching the card in between his fingers, the corners of his mouth didn't budge.
Once again, the man let the card fly back. And the rapid cycle began once again.
The woman was already bored of seeing the same cycle over and over again, but she still had just enough curiosity to keep her from leaving. That, and well, she did already pay him.
Suddenly, as the cards flew in the space between the two, the man spoke up.
"I need you to tell me something, Akame."
The woman's eyes widened. Her hands flinched for her to reach for her scabbard, but she got the sense that in this situation, that wasn't the wisest idea.
"The legendary Akame..." The man paused as if he were remembering something. "I was told that I was going to have to meet you someday, but being told something is never the same as having it actually happen."
"Who told you?" Akame masked the tension from her voice. "Who told you that you were going to meet me?"
"Who else?" The man chuckled.
"Fate, of course."
A card shot up towards the man's face. It seemed to Akame that his catch had a bit more panache this time around. The man looked at the card for a good while before, without changing his expression, he sighed.
"Tell me this Akame," the man continued. "You have spent most of your life fighting, the better half of which you spent fighting for everlasting peace. You have lost many friends along the way, but you have no regrets as you realize that it was all for the only cause that was worth dying for. And now, because of everybody's sacrifices, the revolution is finally over: there is no more need for suffering of their magnitude, and most especially, suffering of your magnitude. That sort of pain is pain of the past, and all that is left to do is to move forward."
"So now, I ask you this: would you still be willing to help somebody in need, even if doing so would thrust you back into suffering? Are you, for the sake of somebody else, be willing to relive your past? Do you plan to continue to be dragged down by other people's souls?"
The words echoed throughout Akame—they were like balls bouncing around a hollow room, their sounds bouncing off the walls. Images flashed through her mind: images of friendship, of love, of death. Moments of triumph mixed in with scenes of suffering. She would see a face for a split second, only to see it brutalized the next.
Night Raid. Their names came to mind. So did their faces. So did their corpses.
But so did those of the countless individuals that she had killed.
This kind of suffering. This kind of pain. Nobody deserved to live through it again. Not even her.
And yet...
"I don't want to live through it all again," Akame said, determination emanating from her timbre. "But, if it's for the sake of others, I'd be willing to do it all over again."
The man stayed silent. His hands and body remained unmoved, and so did the expression upon his lips.
Then, after a moment of silence, he sighed. He let go of the card in his hand, and without even flicking his wrist, all of the cards stacked themselves into a pile and disappeared into the dark insides of the tent. He now had a slight smile on his thin lips; be it of resignation or amusement, Akame couldn't tell.
"Well, one thing's for sure," the man scoffed.
"Life is not done with you yet."
Akame couldn't help but scoff back. Life never really ran out of things for her to do.
But, if it meant living by her ideals, then she wouldn't have it any other way.
The man crept out of his tent and stood up, prompting Akame to do the same. Standing face-to-face, Akame realized that the man did indeed a strong build: he was taller than her by at least a head, had a broad chest and even broader shoulders, and despite him acting as if he hadn't eaten in forever, there was not a single part of his body that wasn't covered in muscle.
This wasn't to say that he wasn't old however. Under the daylight, Akame could now more visibly see that his skin was wrinkling up and tearing at places, as if his skin had endured years of battle and abuse. Akame could now see what was being covered by the cloak: a face so covered in bandages that they only revealed dry colorless lips and a pair of maroon eyes. He had white hair, but only in patches spread around his scalp.
Despite being much bigger than her, seeing him in the daylight made him seem more human to Akame, and that in itself gave her a sense of comfort.
The man barely looked at Akame before walking off right past her. Upon noticing that she wasn't following him, he stopped, looked back, and motioned for her to follow.
Akame hesitated. Her hand reached for a sword, but she never got to grasping it.
It didn't take long for Akame to catch up and walk by his side.
"Would you mind telling me where you're taking me?" Akame asked, her eyes perking up to reach the gaze of the man.
"Where else?" the man answered.
"Fate would love to meet you."
If it weren't for fate, I wouldn't be writing this story right now.
Admittedly, I had "given up" on fanfiction, since it seemed to me that stories like these would never reach as big of an audience as non-derivative works would, and as such wouldn't be as worthwhile to create.
That was until I went on vacation and stayed in a place with absolutely no WiFi. Out of my boredom, I forced myself to write something, and that something is this chapter that you have just read. And that's when I realized: I never stopped loving fanfiction, and I never stopped loving Akame Ga Kill!
The main point of stories is to allow people to express themselves, and in doing so, allow others to experience and feel the emotions that our lives have blessed us with. Fanfictions are no different, and as such, are worth pursuing to the degree that they accomplish these goals. Writing fanfictions of Akame Ga Kill! just so happens to be a great avenue for me to express my feelings and ideas, for despite connoisseurs and YouTuber critics calling it shallow, it remains memorable to me due to the emotions that I felt whilst reading/watching it.
Originally, I was planning on continuing my original AGK fanfic "Akame ga Kill!: Distortion", but I got demotivated after I lost the original outline that I had for the next few chapters. I had spent hours writing that outline (and I remember being so proud of it too), and yet it was all for naught.
So instead of trying to get back into writing that story, I will write this story for the time being. It was supposed to be a sequel based off of another fanfic that I was planning on writing, but that fanfic made me realize how much edgier I was a few years ago than I am now. I'll write it if ever my sanity is up for it.
I am tempted to talk more about how I came up with this fanfic idea, but I am afraid of revealing too much info. I hope that I find the time to continue this fanfic; after all, I too know the feeling of waiting forever for somebody to post a new chapter.
Adios!
-WritingAmateur0604