Chapter IX: The Breaking of the Shell

Song of the Chapter: Kings and Queens and Vagabonds by Ellem


"Did you get what you needed?" Kurogiri asked behind the counter, wiping the imaginary stain off a scotch glass.

Shigaraki chuckled menacingly, his hands twitching at his sides as he entered the bar and hideout. There was an urge to scratch the itch on his neck but his curiosity had overpowered him; his latest discovery even more.

Class 1-A's twenty-first student.

"I didn't think I'd get quality material. But it seemed our little Miss Golden Eyes has secrets of her own," Shigaraki said to his foggy associate. The black smoke that made up Kurogiri's body billowed upwards, and so did the yellow glowing eyes that narrowed at him.

"What kind of secrets?" Kurogiri asked and watched as Shigaraki pulled out his phone. He pressed a few buttons and a recording played of a girl's voice.

"I'm not planning to go against my… pretend probation. I know my dad. He might've duped the authorities but he sure as hell gonna take my punishment seriously. Who knows whatever surprises he has in this—thing. So, yes, I will not escape from my punishment. Despite what people think… I'm quite aware of my shortcomings." There was a tired sigh at the end as if speaking about her punishment exhausted every muscle of her. They could hear the faint sounds of tinkling glass and cutlery in the background.

"I'll thank Giran later for the equipment. It was more than useful I see," Kurogiri said.

"Yes, it was. I wondered what naughty things she did to get that tracker… and her father duping the authorities?… Who is she?" Wondered Shigaraki as his hands trembled even more but not reaching to his neck. A wicked smile was on his face once more. "I have a really good feeling about this."

"A tracker you say? Only offenders on house arrest and the like can get those…" Kurogiri mused and walked closer to Shigaraki who was now sitting on the counter. "I might have to listen to that recording in full… "

"Yeah, you should… 'cause she's planning more trouble." Shigaraki chuckled. "I don't think they have any idea who they're dealing with." There was that smile on the young man's face that made Kurogiri nervous.

"I think we should observe her for awhile, and I have more news for you."

"Hmm? What is it?"

"I heard talk from a few friends… It's been two months and no attack from our mutual underground celebrity," Kurogiri said grimly. "Two to three attacks every month for almost a year and now nothing in two… It's weird." The glass he was cleaning was warm to the touch from anxious hands he didn't know he had.

"Yeah, well, Mr. Smiles didn't attack anyone for about month a few months back. What's the big deal?" Shigaraki whined and leaned on the counter rubbing his temple.

"Nothing. If he's in the wind, then it will be hard to get a chance for a talk. He might listen to our cause. Anyone who could catch a man like the Ghoul is formidable." Kurogiri narrowed his eyes at the youngster. "We need more people like him."

"He attacked both people we know and people we hate. It's kind of confusing. Such a mess," Shigaraki groaned and pulled out a portable console from his pocket.

"Better Smiley than Moonfish. At least he wouldn't talk about how sweet our meat is. Just what I think," Kurogiri wryly said and walked away to arrange the glasses he had cleaned earlier.

Time was of the essence and their Sensei, ever the demanding man, was growing impatient of their lack of progress. The Attack on USJ was supposed to be one hell of an announcement for the League, but instead, it proved All Might's strength once more. It nettled Shigaraki more than anything. His neck had never seen more scratches that day.

"You shouldn't go out anymore. Those wounds you got are still on the mend," Kurogiri said.

"I don't care… Sensei is… angry. I can't let it happen again. All Might must not win. I have a new suggestion. This Stain character… What can you tell me about him?"

"He attacks heroes that don't fit the mold. He's been killing for about ten years. He leaves a few witnesses and survivors. People who got lucky."

"Sounds like our kind of guy… Maybe we should put some time into gaining an audience with him." Shigaraki smirked. Surely, someone like Stain could see what was truly wrong with this world.

"I'll see what I can do… What about her? That girl and that boy who attacked you?"

"I'll have to find out more about them. Don't worry. I'll keep myself away from trouble… but there's something…" Shigaraki mumbled.

"Hmm? What is it?"

"I feel like I've seen her before…it–it's strange…"

There was a memory at the tip of his tongue, at the tip of his brain and it made him uneasy. A subtle ache begins from his fingertips and crept towards his neck.

"Have you met her before?" Kurogiri asked as he walked out of the counter and sat beside Shigaraki, now more curious than ever.

"I don't know, okay?" Shigaraki groaned, teeth clenched and one of his hands had started scratching the indelible itch on his neck. "Gah! It's making my head hurt."

"Okay, calm down. You'll figure it out. In the meantime, we find as much about Stain and whatever you want to know about those students. It seemed Sensei wants to know about them, too."

Kurogiri left Shigaraki alone to his thoughts as he went to the bar's backroom. Something was up with his Sensei and now even more after he mentioned her.

"Watch her, Tomura. She is important. I have plans for her," his Sensei said to him when they last communicated.

What plans? What are you not telling me, Sensei? What do you know? Shigaraki's head throbbed with questions and it was like grasping at mist. It was there, in front of him, but untouchable with his hands.

Everything was untouchable with his hands.

"We'll see each other again soon…" Shigaraki whispered. Very soon. He opened his phone's gallery and gaze at a photo of the girl with the glowing hands walking out a cafe with a friend.

Very soon.


"If I needed you to bleed I would tell you, okay?" Akira hissed as she stuck pieces of tissue up her nose.

Akira descended the stairs, hoping her uncle wouldn't notice her condition but she wasn't hoping for the best.

"Hey, I've got your omel—" Vlad narrowed his eyes at her. "What's that stuck up your nose?"

"It's nothing…"

"'Nothing'? You're gonna need to put some juice into that lying," he teased, "so what's wrong? You broke your nose or something."

"It's because of my Quirk…" She began. "It's some sort of Quirk fatigue."

"You overused your Quirk? You do know that's bad, right? Aizawa's got that pattern with his students. That Midoriya kid gets his bones broken every time he uses his Quirk. You really shouldn't follow his example," scolded her worried uncle.

"I wouldn't know my strength if I don't test my limits now, would I?" Akira countered with a raised eyebrow as she approached the dining table.

"Well your 'testing your limits' has got you stuffing your nose… and ruining your shirt."

"Uggh…" She groaned and looked down. Dark patches were now on her P.E shirt. "Now, I have to change my-you know what? I'll do it after I eat. I am in dire need of sustenance."

"It's–umm–It's food. Call it 'food'. It's an omelet," Vlad joked. "You feeling anything else… besides a nosebleed."

"A migraine," Akira said, "it comes and it goes."

"Maybe you shouldn't go to training today… Get some rest. You're sick."

"And get a yacking from the 'All-Seeing Eye of Sauron'?"

"Hey, Aizawa doesn't look like it but he'll understand. He hates it every time his students get hurt from their own stupidity. And it's highly irrational for you to break your body in the long run for this," Vlad reasoned and took a sip from his coffee cup. "Rest today… You've trained enough… "

"Fine… Just… Nevermind."

"Say it! Come on! Free speech!" Her uncle roared and patted her on the back for encouragement. Vlad saw her flinch and thought he made the wrong move.

"Chocolates. They—umm—help with the migraines. Just that."

Vlad mussed Akira's hair and he chuckled when she tried to bite him. When her cheerful uncle left, Akira felt a certain warmth had seeped out of the house. She found herself surfing through Youtube videos on the TV. She set a new record low when she ended up confusedly watching a three-minute how-to-bake video and realized thirty minutes later that it was in Russian.

Her mind was muddled and throbbing with a slight ache. A good tea could do the trick. Akira checked the fridge for some ingredients.

"Next, the lem—Fuck the lemons," Akira cursed. No, don't fuck the lemons.

There were no lemons. There were no lemons. Why were there no lemons? A trip to the store was needed and so she sent a text message to her uncle telling him her plans to go out.

Who ate my lemons?

not me.

Liar. Gotta go to the store now.

not me. you probably sleep-ate :)

I've never done such a thing.

Akira replied. Right? She wondered.

The sky was turbid gray and gloomy and it loomed grimly upon her. A downpour was imminent so she brought an umbrella. Akira never fancied those plastic raincoats. It made her look like the Fellowship of the Ring congregated in a Walmart.

Despite her lack of love for rainwear, Akira enjoyed the rainy days much more than she enjoyed the winter. There was a calm eeriness in snow as they floated and fell unto the ground, ghostly and white all over. It also causes some kind of motion sickness for her since all things covered in white messed up her depth perception. She once fell into a hole in broad daylight one winter morning.

The automated doors of the nearby grocery mart opened to her and immediately, the smell of freshly baked bread tickled her nose as it wafted from the bakeshop at the corner most side of the supermarket. Akira would've shaken Death's hand and any part of them if the Afterlife smelled like this.

"Focus, you are here for the lemons," Akira murmured and she looked ahead like a sailor in the bountiful sea.

The wind had picked up when she was done with her shopping. Akira ended up leaving the supermarket with bargained cans of sweet corn for soup later, some apples, a pack of multicolored pens that she truly needed and of course, lemons.

It was then as she stepped out that Akira heard the faint pitter-patter of rain. With her umbrella opened, she walked carefully and away from puddles, vigilant of the incoming cars that may spray her if they zoomed by. About five minutes away from the supermarket and five minutes from arriving at her uncle's home, she found herself using a shortcut in an alley albeit she didn't enjoy every second of it.

The alley stank heavily of cigarette smoke. It seemed the nearby establishment had used their back alley as a secret smoking area. Akira disliked that scent. It was the smell of lung cancer and lingering anxiety. She had nothing against smokers. One of her paternal uncles was a smoker, she remembered but he always did his smoking away from people.

A faint ringing caught her attention but it wasn't in her head nor from the ghost who whispered in her ear. It was a cellphone ringtone and the scarcely perceptible sound of small objects being strewn about.

Akira kept walking when she made the last turn out of the alley and into the main street, she found the source of the sounds she heard. A bearded man was crouched down on the ground behind a large waste bin, with a what looked to be a woman's bag. The man, too busy on his messing around the items in the bag, didn't notice Akira observing him.

That bag isn't yours. Akira thought although she was never one to judge anyone for their taste in handbags. Yuki would probably kill the man for treating any handbag that way, much more now that Akira could see it up close as she passed the man, and saw that it looked of first-rate quality.

Yes, Yuki would've torn him by the sockets.

Now, like her rotten luck, Akira's meandering was discovered and the bearded man glared and bared his teeth which looked almost shark-like.

"Umm–I'm just gonna go no—"

"Don't fucking move…" He sneered and in his hand a small knife. Akira didn't know if she should laugh for his efforts or for something like this to happen when all she wanted was just to stay away.

The stranger stood upright and was way taller than she calculated. Maybe he had some kind of growth Quirk, she wasn't sure. She could see his chest now, covered in reptilian scales, that she discovered he was only wearing an unbuttoned vest on his upper body. His jeans had the typical holes on them which she had nothing against as well.

Hey, maybe it was couture. Maybe special rats chewed through them.

He pointed the knife menacingly at her but it would've been as dangerous as wet bread flopping on the pavement, but she let him. Just to see what he would do.

"Give me your phone," he ordered.

"I don't have a phone," Akira lied.

"Yeah, right, you kids don't have a fuckin' phone," he hissed at her and took a step closer.

"Y-yeah, I-I don't," Akira lied. Put some juice into that lyi—

"You again?" Akira heard someone behind her groan, a familiar voice. "Is this gonna be a–"

"Who the fuck are you?!" The thief growled and Akira slowly turned her head and found Dabi squinting his eyes at the bearded man.

"Hey, I fuckin' asked you a ques—oof!" A flash of light and the man was down on the ground, groaning. Akira had blasted him mid-question. Dabi narrowed his eyes at her.

"What? He stole someone's bag. It was authentic, too," Akira lamented. "I'll just let him sleep. Maybe he's having a bad day and I'll just give the bag to the authorities."

"Wait? Someone tried to mug you and you're worried about some lady's bag?"

"This is a Neverfull Louis Vuitton bag. Authentic! This costs almost two thousand dollars in the market. I am giving this back," Akira insisted.

"Tch, do it later. The rain's getting worse," Dabi told her. "Give me that." He snatched the umbrella from her hand and put it over both of them. Akira yelped.

"Hey! What'd you do that for?"

"What? I'm just- trying to be nice… besides, you're freakin' tiny. If you have been holding this, you wouldn't reach my shoulder," Dabi jested.

How dare- Akira scrunched her nose and narrowed his eyes at him.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing. We seemed to be meeting each other more often these days," Akira quipped. "You following me or something?"

"No. I take my walks here, too. I am not some creep." Dabi rolled his eyes at her. "What are we gonna do with him?" He asked and watched the unconscious man stir on the wet ground.

Akira's hand glowed and as she flourished a wave, a piece of metal from the large bin broke off with a snap and wrapped around the reptilian chest-man.

"You should get a job," Akira whispered though the man was still asleep, "there's never a reason to mug people."

"What kind of Quirk was that?" Dabi grunted.

"I can blast things… move things… to put it simply," Akira replied. "I'm gonna have to move our thief away from the rain. Being sopping wet is far from comfortable."

"That's a neat Quirk."

"Thanks. It took a while to control it. Got me into a lot of trouble." Akira reached with both delicate glowing hands. The stranger was lifted off the ground and Akira settled him under an area with a roof sticking out. "I'll call the cops on him, but I can't be here… I am so dead."

When she had turned her Quirk off, a haze covered her eyes and the world seemed to dance. Akira reached out for the wall to lean on but found Dabi's arm instead.

"Woah, woah," he said. "What the hell? What's wrong with you?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Akira jabbered, waving her hand about dismissively.

Dabi narrowed his eyes at her. "No, you're not." He pointed at her face.

"Oh, no…" Akira breathed out as she pressed her hand to her nose, which was now bleeding once more. "I need to go… Thanks for today."

"I didn't even do anything," Dabi grumbled and put his hand in his pocket, wrapping the other securely on Akira's arm to keep her upright. When he looked at her to see if she was alright, his eyes fell on her clothes, a black t-shirt, sneakers and U.A P.E pants.

Dabi set Akira down in a waiting shed near a bus stop as she recuperated from her dizziness. The black spots in her vision were starting to go away but not as quick as Akira would like. Dabi sat quietly beside her, hands in his pocket. It wasn't hard to guess that he was deep in thought. The lazy grin on his face was gone, replaced by a pondering frown that made Akira think that something was not right.

"Is something wrong?

"You're a U.A Student?…"

"Y-yes… It's—" Akira began to answer but paused to pull a handkerchief out of her pocket and dab on her nose. "—I've overworked myself so… this happens."

"I just didn't expect you to be a Hero-type," Dabi said, and began walking out of that alley. His mind clicked when he realized something. "It's the Sports Festival, isn't it? That's why you're working too hard."

"Yes, it's that damned festival… I didn't think of myself as a Hero, too. But I did… many things wrong so they put me there. Maybe I'll learn a thing or two."

Put you there? Hmm. "Tch. You'll be disappointed. Heroes aren't as good as people think they are," Dabi scoffed. "Overworking students to the bone should be made illegal."

"Well, believe it or not, my choices led me here so… I have to clean up my own messes," Akira said to him. "I don't mind working hard… and I take breaks. It's why I'm resting today, Dabi. There really is nothing to worry about," she insisted haughtily at him.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. But put this in your head, smarty pants. Don't rely on your heroes too much. One day, they'll let you down. You only have yourself to blame when that happens. So… don't let them beat you into someone else… someone that's not you… " Dabi warned and flicked her on the head. Akira had half the mind to pummel him but found no energy nor mind to do it.

Only the sound of falling rain on the pavement and on the roof above them pervaded. It was a pleasant stimulus, an auditory massage of sorts and the petrichor in her nose lulled her to a calmness she never had before. She wouldn't mind something like this. Dabi was quiet and seemed to be observing and listening as well. The waiting shed by the bus stop had become a welcomed respite.

All Dabi could think of were her words about how she got to U.A. What did you do, smarty pants?

But maybe he didn't have to worry. Maybe having something like this wasn't so bad. As impossible as it could seem, he wished this lonesome shed he shared with the girl he saved from a cereal box could last as long as he wants to.


"Wait… He's dead?"

"Yes."

"Like… dead–dead?"

"What other dead is there?" Akira grumbled.

"No. NO! They can't just kill the main character. Ned Stark was a hero. He was a HERO!" Vlad bellowed.

"Yeah, well his heroism just got him beheaded. It's a cautionary tale. I can't believe you haven't watched this," she said to him with disbelief.

"I can't believe you have! There's a lot of stuff here that isn't for you!"

"Gah! The sex scenes are distractions. I just skip them. I want to see the pieces move. I want to see who gets to have the Iron Throne!" Akira exclaimed vigorously. Vlad had to crane his neck away lest he got hit by a stray elbow.

"You're very into this, aren't you?" Vlad said.

"It's a good show but the books are superior," Akira grumbled. "They are always superior."

"Spoken like a true bookworm…" Vlad mumbled and Akira raised her eyebrow.

Vlad had come home early and since today's training was the last day before the two-day rest for the sports festival's competitors, there was a lot of time for Vlad to finally bond with Akira. He had brought home the chocolates Akira asked and some other goodies. They both ended up in the living room and watching a few TV shows.

"So what made you want to watch this with me?" Akira asked. Beating around the bush wasn't really her thing.

"What do you mean?" Vlad asked. Akira looked away to roll her eyes.

"You tell me what you have to tell me. Is it bad?" Akira asked, and shoved a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

"Remember Aizawa's two favorite words?"

"Hot Topic?"

"Please don't let him hear you say that," Vlad scolded her although he had a sly grin on his face.

"Okay, okay, it's logical ruse… Yeah, a few of the class has regaled me about the near—expulsion experience they had on their first day. He really likes to make an impression, that Aizawa," Akira told him with a flourish of her hands. Her uncle chuckled but the mirth died on his face. Akira sat up straight to listen to him.

"What was your ruse? How did you did you do it? How did you get to those people? You aren't some psychopath," Vlad's questions came tumbling out.

"People have stereotypes. Wear certain clothes, make-up, hairstyle. They make a story in their heads before the facts," Akira began to answer. "The point is to feed those stories. Then, anyone can be invisible."

"Tell me more," Vlad instructed.

Akira sighed. "What I meant is that… My ruse is to give in to people's… stereotypes… I am young so I must dumb and naive. I am a little girl so I must be breakable." She chuckled and leaned on the couch. "It's easy. Those burdens on my form have been in the world since the beginning of man."

Form? Vlad squinted his eyes at her but she paid him no mind. You Optimus Prime?

"Okay, so your ruse was you made yourself look like you can't hurt a fly."

"I smile a lot, too… which really hurt my face. I don't know how normal people do it. They all must be half-mad." Akira hated it, having to smile for someone else's sake, but the look of surprise when she messed up their day was more than worth it. It was a cross between It and Keeping Up With the Kardashians. There was a lot of faking it except this one had people shitting their pants.

"Tell me about Hasegawa," Vlad said.

"Why?"

"Well, to tell you the truth Aizawa and Naomasa-san has been wanting to ask you about the whole vigilante thing. You were seen in the Tokyo Snakes operation and we found some DNA on all the Smiley cases. One of it was a match to yours but… we never asked you the specifics. I want to know more about what happened. Why did it end Hasegawa that way? I know you wouldn't anything like that." He said. "All the other folks you got to all ended up spilling the beans and getting arrested."

Akira took a sip from her soda and spoke, "I took interest in him after he gave you the slip for the third time."

"In all instances, we had witnesses against him but—"

"But they disappeared. I don't blame the heroes. I could see you did everything you could within the scope of the law," Akira told him. "So I set my sights on him. He was a businessman connected to multiple gangs specializing in smuggling and money laundering. He lended them his-uhh- services. Al Capone wouldn't have gone to prison if he had someone like Hasegawa on his side."

"He's that good?"

"Yeah," Akira answered, "that's why I don't blame you guys for letting him get away."

"So what went wrong?"

Vlad could see that she was hesitating. She was wringing her hands and both her thumbs were digging and scratching into her pointer fingers. He remembered his conversation with Aizawa.

"This is between the both of us. I'll tell Aizawa what he wants to hear, but the specifics will stay between us, okay?" Vlad assured her and Akira nodded.

So Akira told him. Told him how she tailed him for days, listening to his conversations, knowing who his friends are, the people who he hates.

"I had to look up his bodyguards, you know. Who they were. What their Quirks were. Ken jacked up my phone and hacked their credit cards so I could tell what they're into. Buying patterns. Favorite coffee shop," Akira divulged with a wry smile.

"You're thorough… but it's still illegal."

Your taste in coffee is illegal. Akira thought.

"I finally had a chance to… interrogate him," she continued. "He had some kind of a summer home in Yakushima. He only brought a few guards and his family was away for a few days to Europe, so… "

Hasegawa was a stubborn man albeit a little entertaining. Despite his ego and his far from legal activities, he had wit in him. In the three hours she kept him tied to a chair in a hotel room, sans the time she had to transport him in a dessert trolley, Akira found no dull moment spent with him.

"If I had to choose to marry either a wet moldy bread or Endeavor, I would eat that bread. I would make love to that bread," he said and Akira had nodded at him with agreement.

But the fun had to end. When Akira had finally asked him who was making the gang piss their pants, she didn't expect him to do the same. Hasegawa was frightened of whoever he pledged his allegiance to.

"I'm not telling you anything man," Hasegawa had hissed at her smiling mask, "I'll be torn apart by his freaks if I did. Just let me go. For both our sakes."

There, at that moment of resistance from him that she heard those small bells, and ever since she had been hearing it more and more every day, clearer than she had before. The sound was always there, she guessed, but now that she had turned her ear to it, she couldn't stop but listen to them.

"So you let him go…?" Her uncle finally spoke through the silence.

"Yes… but not before I… used my Quirk on him. I always had a theory that my ability was more than just… moving objects and blasting them." Akira clenched her jaw.

"What do you mean?"

"I can sense things from people. It's a sound that others don't hear. Sounded like bells… bells on strings…"

Then Akira pulled on them and pulled on them. Louder and louder they rang. Every ring was the song of a child's cry, the hiss of a man's envy and the whimper of prey's fear.

"What did you do?"

"I saw his fears, his pain, his happiness and every tug I gave the bells within him… It was like… he was reliving them…" Akira whispered. "What was I to do? I didn't know I could even—even do that… So I… let him go… I made him forget… He didn't have anything I needed."

"So why did it happened? Why would Hasegawa hurt his own family? From what I heard, he was an asshole but… he never would have done that to his own wife, his own home," Vlad said. "So why?"

"The way that I see it… is that he was a frightful man. Whatever I did to him," Akira sighed, "planted some kind of fear and then he became paranoid… then…he…"

"Wait, you made him forget? How?"

"Whatever I did to him… it messed him up a bit… Made him delirious... I was… glad that he was okay when I heard about what happened to him after our encounter. But I guess he wasn't alright after all…" Akira shivered and Vlad narrowed his eyes at her.

"So… this thing that you did to him… Did you use it again?" Vlad asked but Akira looked at him appalled.

"No. No, I didn't use it ever again… I even stopped for a month, remember?… I've done fewer missions afterwards… not as much as before… Whatever I did to him, left echoes," Akira firmly said. "You forced my hand in the Tokyo Raid so I had to use a weaker version of it. It only made gang members there delirious but that's about it. It's… poisonous. Whatever they feel… they stick to you."

"He survived, you know?" Vlad said to her, "he survived for about two days then passed away. His burns were really bad."

"I-I see." Akira looked down on her feet. A not-so-distant memory called out to her, unknown to her uncle.

"It's you… I know it's you… You've come for me then."

Hasegawa looked at her as if they were old friends. Akira could only guess it was the medication they were pumping him. The bells around him resounded with relief.

"I wouldn't be surprised that you didn't know. We kept that fact from the mainstream media. He was in a critical condition and a lot of people hated him."

"I'm sorry… I didn't intend for this to happen…" She said to the burned man on his deathbed. Akira sat beside him, her heart quivered and wished it wasn't there.

"He wouldn't have survived with that kind of injury… The shock would have been too much for him," Akira replied to her uncle but the latter shook his head.

"No… I'm in a lot of pain… but I could see… so much more… now…" Hasegawa slurred.

The burnt husk of a man was unrecognizable. Nearly half of his body was immolated. His hair was gone and the wounds that covered him were fresh and slick of fluid.

"This is not my intent—"

"It wasn't your fault," he cut her off.

"He didn't die from his wounds, Aki. He—he died from a morphine overdose. The machine he was hooked up to gave him a little bit more than was needed." Vlad sighed mournfully. "He didn't wake up anymore."

"I will… tell you… who… who did this to me…"

"You didn't do this? But—"

"I… was betrayed… by someone in… my own… house–household…" He heaved out a hard painful cough. Breathing, she could see, was the hardest thing to do for him. "He knew my… silence… silence was… never guaranteed… I was a loose end… and your attack on me… made him nervous…"

"Who… who did this to you?" Akira whispered and walk towards him. Hasegawa weakly beckoned her to listen closer.

"Stay… stay away from him… you don't want this man after you… he's the… the Devil incarnate…" He whispered to her ear.

"I need to know. So this doesn't happen again," Akira whispered back.

"If that is… what you want… in one… condition…" He took a deep languid breath. Then turned his head to the machine beside him, the analgesic pump. Akira looked at him, mouth agape, in sheer horror at what he was asking.

"No. NO. I won't do that. I'm not a killer." Akira walked and turned away from him.

"That is my… condition… What I know… for what you'll give me… You need justice. This… is justice."

"Not like this," Akira refused once more.

"Did he do it to himself? Or…?" Akira asked while crossing her arms and taking another sip from her soda can.

"I think he did it to himself. He was conscious. He was aware of his pain. He lost his home, his wife. I'd go crazy if I'd been him. He wasn't paralyzed. One press of his finger would have done it."

Akira nodded at her uncle. "I'm gonna go clean this up." She took the wrappers, empty cans and empty bags of chips and took them to the kitchen, sighing loudly as she threw to the bin.

As clear as day, she remembered the last moments she had Hasegawa. No force in the world would have made her forget.

"Thank you," Hasegawa whispered to her. He weakly tugged at her sleeve and she kneeled close to his face. His eyes were slowly closing.

"Tell me… Please… let me do this for you…"

"All For One," he whispered. "All for One…"

Those three words, Hasegawa's swan song before the inevitable long beep, the end of the line, were Akira's only clue to the festering wound that is the underbelly of Musutafu and the whole country itself, taken from a man in pain who wished for death, given to a girl who knew too much yet knew too little.

"Aki," her uncle called out to her, "it's not your fault it ended up that way."

Akira didn't look at him. If she did, he could see that she was far from innocent.

All for one. She thought. Whatever Hasegawa meant, she would find out what the words meant.

I'll sink my teeth into you and never let go.

She would make sure of it, that if this Devil's Incarnate were to try and stop her, they would find, rather unfortunately, that they would have to tear their own flesh to do so.


Author's Note:

HAPPY NEW YEAR, EVERYONE!

Late is the hour of this upload! I know! I thank you for waiting on this update. I underestimated just how busy December and January is for me in the family. It's basically a two-month reunion full of pre-pre-pre-pre-parties that I have to prepare for since me and my mom liked to cook. Also, this chapter had a lot of changes. So… like I said, thank you for waiting.

So 2019 is here and I tell you fics are coming as well. Besides Project Ultrabright and the second volume of this story, which I haven't put a name to yet, there will be another fic for another fandom. Another fandom that I truly, immensely love, in all its media, and will begin its final season this April! You know what it is! It's still in concept form, nothing tangible yet so if you're into the GOT fandom, this fanfic will be for you.

Chapter X... Finally, the visit to Akira's old home happens. A ghost appears.

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