It felt as if a cold blade was pressed against Akame's neck, gradually slicing it open as time passed by. A sense of unfairness assailed her more than anything else.
Her breaths were shallow, and her focus was waning along with her blackening vision. The wound through her stomach had been steadily leaking blood, and dizziness was gradually clouding her senses.
She could feel her knees wobbling, her feet finding it difficult to balance, and yet more than ever, she wanted to cry. No matter how long she'd trained to repress her thoughts and emotions to give full attention to a certain task, there were still breaking points.
To be so close, yet so far frustrated her beyond all else. Why? Just once, can't something turn out right in her life?!
Her breathing started to wheeze as she assessed the situation, surrounded by enemies on all sides and Shirou injured and supporting his back against a tree.
He could hardly move even if he wanted to. Akame could tell easily. After all, Shirou would have been standing by now if he could. Instead, what he did was different.
Akame could feel Shirou's eyes on her, and knew without a doubt what he would say.
"Akame-"
"Shut up." She cut him off briskly, her tone sharper than it had ever been.
Forcing strength into her limbs, she put herself between Shirou and everyone else, five people in total as potential enemies. There was Syura whom she recognized, followed by three others she recalled from Night Raid's intelligence reports. The fat clown, Champ; the former pirate Enshin; and the bloody swordsman Izou. The reports stated that there should have been two others that comprised Syura's Wild Hunt, but they weren't around for one reason or another.
They had been stationed at the capital's defense due to the nature of their Teigu and Dorothea's alchemic prowess. The two of them were far more effective in mass genocide than assassination. One used sound to kill her enemies, and the other could mass produce modified Danger Beasts. Their skill set was planned to cripple the rebel army's forces, but all contact was lost when the capital's defenders vanished in a ring of fire.
Kurome and Wave made the total enemies come to five, but as things stood, the reaction between Kurome and Wave, and Syura's group was ambiguous. Wave was glaring while Kurome had frozen up.
Infighting? It would have been in Akame's best interest, but it wasn't reliable given that the reasonable approach was for Wave and Kurome to back away.
From the start, Syura's gaze was trained on Shirou.
Akame tightened her grip around Murasame's hilt. Her nerves were tense. In her current state, realistically, there was no chance at victory much less survival.
"Well look what we have here? A fine woman." Enshin licked his lips, his eyes narrowing into slits framed by an outdated triangular bob-cut hair.
A shudder of revulsion traveled down Akame's spine.
Enshin was said to be a man hand-picked by Syura. He was a misogynist pirate rumored to have had his way with numerous women upon entering the capital.
Akame's eyes glanced towards the sword strapped to Enshin's side. He was a swordsman, and that sword he had was a Teigu said to be capable of creating air blades.
"Oi, Champa, you keep guard. I'll handle this one." Enshin leisurely stepped forward, Syura silently acknowledging the arrangement. "Too bad the boss lost his legs. Still, you want any action Champ? She looks like the silent type, but they're always the screamers."
Akame let out a shaky breath, beads of sweat forming over her brow as she glanced at Champ, the fat clown. If the both of them attacked her, there was no chance.
"How boring," Champ muttered in reply, his gaze glaring at Akame with contempt. "She's not to my – oh."
Champa's gaze suddenly lingered on Kurome, something no one failed to miss.
"Champa," Syura warned, knowing full well that Champ was a deviant that preyed on children to preserve their 'beauty,' before maturity.
The way Champ was looking at Kurome's undeveloped physique was revolting, but Syura wasn't stupid. Why make enemies before completing his revenge?
The way Syura was glaring at Shirou made it clear that he would never give Shirou a peaceful end.
Syura had already lost his legs and an arm, and was surviving by virtue of his tenacity and anger. Doreothea could fix his missing limbs, or even Doctor Stylish. He was held by Izou, and only maintained order as Wild Hunt's leader by virtue of his Teigu which could let them all escape at a moment's notice.
Syura glared at Wave and Kurome, veins popping over his temples. "We meet again, you fucking cowards! I should kill you both, but how about it? Stand down and we could put our differences aside?"
Right now, what Syura wanted more than Kurome and Wave was Shirou. With Shirou's death at his hands, perhaps he'd finally make his father proud of him.
Kurome and Wave getting in the way would only make things take longer than necessary.
Wave stepped forward, donning a suit of black armour. However, he didn't attack, glancing at Kurome and waiting to see what she'd decide on.
"You don't want this fight." Syura hardened his voice, expression twisting into a menacing scowl. "Or do you really think my old man's dead?!"
Kurome shivered, her pupils dilating from childhood trauma.
"Kurome, please! I'm not lying! Honest is dead!" Akame for once decided to plead with her sister, but the thing about trauma was that it was never easy to recover from.
Kurome couldn't meet Akame's eyes and ultimately glanced away with a pale face, and horse breath. Wave, in contrast, balled his hands into fists at the sight.
"Good choice, bitch." Syura let out a grin of triumph. "Enshin, finish the woman. The bastard over there's mine."
Enshin licked his lips, drawing out his sword. "My pleasure. Her eyes look stubborn, but her body is more honest. I can tell. She can barely lift up her own sword."
Akame flinched, unable to refute.
"Akame-"
"I won't run." Akame cut Shirou off again.
Squaring her shoulders, Akame put her remaining strength in keeping her form and balance. A single cut was all that she needed, but the chance wouldn't come.
Air blades formed and launched towards her, and it took all she had to deflect or dodge them. Her sword rattled on impact, numbness spreading down her arms from the collision and aggravating the wound at her core. The hasty bandages she'd wound around her chest were gradually soaked red as dried blood and scabs were torn back open.
Defense wasn't going to work.
Gnashing her teeth, she dashed in for a chance at even vain hope. Lifting her sword, she deflected an air blade aimed at her neck, before twisting her body to the right to avoid another sword. Her wounds tore even further open from the extraneous movement, her feet giving out even before she reached Enshin.
She stumbled for a second, and was left vulnerable.
Enshin skillfully cut her wrist holding Murasame, her fingers losing the strength to curl, and her sword clattering to the ground.
"Ah," She let out a blank cry, not immediately registering the pain before Enshin pushed himself on top of her, and straddled her over the ground.
Her pupils dilated, a bout of panic causing her to desperately reach out for her sword with her good hand.
"As if someone as skilled as you didn't see this coming?" Enshin leered, taking a knife and stabbing it into Akame's outstretched hand, pinning it to the ground. She screamed. "Oh, I know. Maybe it's because you wanted it?"
Biting back the agony, Akame lamented her body's current weakness. I-If she hadn't taken that stab from her sister, then the situation may not have deteriorated to this point.
Right at that moment, Akame and Kurome made eye contact, Kurome shivering violently at the hollow look Akame gave her.
"See Champ," Enshin gloated, his face looming over Akame's. "She's definitely a screamer."
Akame spit on Enshin's face, but got punched in the jaw for it. For a second, she blacked out, yet was instantly brought back to awareness as her head was forced up by the roots of her hair.
She groaned, moaning out as she felt her teeth rattling and blood trickling down her mouth.
"Now you're starting to look pretty," Enshin gingerly took back his dagger that pinned one of Akame's hands to the ground. Before Akame could react, he quickly grabbed both of Akame's hands, stuck them overtop each other, and then stabbed the dagger back in, crippling her arms in place.
Tears welled in Akame's eyes from pain, but her body was no longer responding from sheer fatigue.
She thrashed and bucked as best as she could, but the bastard quickly began cutting at her skirt and blouse until her underwear began to show. Her skin felt cold as it was exposed to cold air, goosebumps running up over her body.
She kicked at him, trying to aim at his groin, but he caught her right leg and severed the tendon behind her knee, forcing her leg limp.
Her skirt was in tatters, verging on indecent. Her upper blouse was no better.
The feeling was an unbearable humiliation, and Enshin was delighting in it if only for a moment.
"You fucking sick bastard!"
Wave couldn't stand to watch any longer. How could people like this be part of the Empire's imperial forces?
With bloodshot eyes, a punch rocketed towards Enshin's face, nailing him on the cheek. Spittle flew before momentum carried Enshin off Akame and tumbling on the ground.
"A bastard like you dares to- ?!"
Seething, Enshin quickly reoriented himself and formed several air blades he launched at Wave, but before they could launch, his vision narrowed.
He hastily ducked his head as a sword's edge flew by his neck.
"…I-I'm the one who kills her!" Kurome stammered, swinging her sword and forcing Enshin back.
Retreating to Akame, Kurome shakily pulled out the dagger pinning Akame's hands into the ground.
Enshin grew further livid, his gaze hyper focusing on Wave and Kurome, unable to realize that Wave and Kurome weren't the only ones that had acted.
Wind swept through the area, rustling leaves, and causing wood to groan in its sheer ferocity.
There had been a reason why Syura let Enshin out on his own, and comradery had nothing to do with it. Rather, it was a safety measure put in place against an opponent with means outside Syura's understanding.
Expectedly-
"Strike Air!"
Mystery manifested upon Shirou's command; his final sword augmenting the movement and enabling the phenomenon through copied aspects of the Traced user.
It was a subtle movement no different from raising one's arm up, and then powerlessly letting it fall down. Yet the result spoke for itself.
The Tempest of the Wind King, a blessing bestowed upon the sword's original user.
A blade of wind faster than any air blade Enshin ever created spread laterally in his direction, severing him in half and cleaving a large cleft into the ground. It broke the sound barrier, creating a shockwave that exploded through the expanse of forest.
Enshin was dead, the two halves of his body blown away by a violent squall.
Kurome and Wave stiffened, suddenly thankful at their prior inaction against Shirou, but that seemed to be it.
Shirou was spent. His breathing was haggard, and he was coughing violently in a fit of intermittent spasming.
It was exactly what Syura was waiting for. Without a word, he teleported out of Izou's grip, and appeared overtop Shirou, one hand clasping a dagger tightly to Shirou's throat.
"You killed one of my men, but it looks like you have nothing left in you." Syura sneered while Akame lost her breath.
Syura chuckled.
It was worth being cautious and losing Enshin. If everyone had been grouped up, and that attack had reached, Syura could already imagine the outcome. As it stood, things were finally looking up.
"Izou, Champ, kill them. This one's mine!" Syura tightened his grip on his weapon watching Shirou maintain a poker face. Bastard didn't even seem able to struggle, but his reaction wasn't what Syura was looking for.
A little pain should help.
"I'm going to enjoy this." Vindictive light gleamed in Syura's eyes before he stabbed Shirou in both legs right under the knee caps.
Shirou grunted, sucking in a breath.
"No!" Akame struggled to get back onto her feet, but she was wobbly at best, staggering from blood loss and fatigue.
"Now we're both crippled in the legs," Syura grinned before letting go of his dagger. Seething, he wrapped his fingers around Shirou's neck and began to gradually squeeze. "You fucker, you cut off one of my arms and got my legs blown off and cauterized!"
"Kurome, please." Akame desperately grabbed Kurome's ankle and pointed. "Shirou, help Shirou!"
Skeletal hands quickly emerged from the ground, but were shattered by a ring of floating orbs around Champ who controlled them to focus on Kurome. Champ licked his lips, forcing Kurome to knit her brows. Wave in contrast was being held up by Izou.
Despair gradually began to work its way up Akame's features as she tried to grab Murasame, only to realize Enshin had severed the tendons of her sword hand. She couldn't curl the fingers of her right hand anymore, and her left had been mutilated through the middle of her palm when Enshin had stabbed her.
Desperate, she used her mouth and screamed, trying to limp her way over with her one good leg. The other was too injured to do any form of fast movement. She realized then and there that she couldn't make it in time.
"Any last words?" Syura delighted in his triumph, watching Shirou's complexion turn blue as he increased his grip on Shirou's neck. Veins were popping on his temples, and blood was leaking from his mouth.
"My body…" Shirou gurgled out.
"Will be mutilated and fed to the dogs!" Syura sneered. Body? There won't even be anything left!
"- Is made out of swords."
From beneath ruptured skin, sharpened blades pierced out like a porcupine's quills from all over Shirou's body, severing Syura's hand around his neck, and abruptly impaling the rest of him in sharpened steel blades.
The sudden reversal caused silence to fall over the area. Syura unwilling to believe in reality, tried to deliver a killing blow with a hand that was already severed. Caught up in a meshwork of blades, Syura's movement only sliced him further, a squelching noise echoing as his body was further impaled.
"A-A douchebag of fucking tricks…shit." The light dimmed from Syura's eyes. He died as he lived, a worm writhing on the ground.
"Boss!" Izou parried Wave's fist and tried to see if there was a chance to save Syura. However, it quickly became clear that their leader was dead. However, his concern was the furthest thing from sentiment. "Shit, there goes our ticket out."
If Honest really was dead, and the revolutionaries won, a future of being hunted down was all Izou could imagine. Without Syura, evasion would be that much harder.
On the other hand, if Izou and Champ killed everyone here and Honest was still alive…a handsome reward was the likely bet.
Izou put strength into his blade, Wave cursing as the sharpened edge began to cut at his armor.
In contrast, Champ didn't consider anything about the future. Rather, Kurome was all he was focusing on while wielding his floating spheres.
Everytime Kurome tried to summon her undead, she was interrupted. It didn't help that she had to cover for Akame and Shirou behind her.
Victory was bleak with current conditions, so something had to change.
"Get out of here!" Kurome rounded on Akame. "Your face makes me sick!"
Akame looked at her younger sister with mixed emotions, numerous words coming to mind. Regret, grief, melancholy, but all she could muster in the end were two words.
"...Thank you."
Akame hobbled towards Shirou, and pulled Syura's corpse off him. Moments after, the sword that protruded from Shirou's body began to retract, leaving behind glaring wounds that put him in a worse condition than he was before.
"S-Shirou?" Akame choked back a sob.
There was blood. There was so much blood from numerous puncture wounds that she didn't know how to touch him.
As if aware of her feelings, Shirou took in a shaky breath and tried to lighten the atmosphere even as Wave and Kurome engaged the enemy before them.
"Akame." Shirou tried to greet with a smile. He coughed and spat out blood instead. Akame flinched. "I don't think I can walk anymore."
Gaze traveling down at Shirou's injured legs and damaged knees, Akame affirmed the truth in Shirou's statement. Admittedly, Akame was only better off in that she at least still had one good leg and could muster the strength to move.
With hands that could no longer hold, she wrapped one of Shirou's arms over her shoulder and lifted him up. Debilitating and acute pain shot up all over her body as it registered Shirou's weight with her own.
She gasped, but trudged on, bearing her pain and becoming all too regretful of her short stature.
Shirou was a full head taller than her, and his legs were dragging. He wasn't saying anything, but the pain must have been unimaginable. She could feel his blood on her, his body wrecked beyond what a normal person should live through. Perhaps that was why Akame felt a creeping sense of terror inside her.
He could die.
With each step, she found herself watching Shirou for breath, to make certain the rise and fall of his chest didn't suddenly stop.
She needed to get him out of here, and further away from Kurome and Wave. She and Shirou would be liabilities if they stayed, and there was just no helping it in their current conditions.
Eventually, the sound of Wave and Kurome fighting behind them waned, replaced solely by the thumping and reverberations of a mutated Shikoutazer in the distance. Trees were felled, and lush plains were being reduced to desert wastelands from superheated beams and torrents of unrelenting energy.
Akame staggered, having no choice but to lean on a tree to catch her breath as she and Shirou watched the battle in the distance.
Booms and echoes of colliding fists, penetrating bullets, and desperate fighting shook their senses.
Budo appeared tiny as he charged the giant, his fists leaving deep impressions into the Shikoutazer's flesh that wriggled and quickly healed itself. A storm of energy bullets constantly pelted the monstrosity from all sides, but it just kept lumbering forward in the direction of the populated capital.
Wires that stretched into a thick mesh attempted to bind the giant's legs, but even those wires snapped like twigs.
The lumbering monster was like a final parting gift from Honest. If he couldn't have the Empire, then no one could.
Akame's heart felt like it was falling, her stomach sinking from nausea.
Najenda, Budo, and the others were losing, and that fell directly onto Akame and Shirou's eyes.
Several minutes passed while Akame tried to catch her breath before she felt Shirou shift in her arms. Determination was plastered over his face, but Akame would have given anything to see that determination replaced with cowardice…
God dammit.
She swallowed back a lump forming in her throat when the moment she'd been both expecting and dreading came to fruition.
She'd known Shirou for too long now.
"Akame, I need a favour." he croaked out, spitting blood from his mouth. The injury was an internal one, the lungs likely. "Will you listen to it?"
Akame did not meet Shirou's eyes and suddenly trudged on in the opposite direction of the capital, putting their backs towards Shikoutazer and the destruction following it.
It was a tacit refusal echoed by the silence. Akame already had an inkling as to what the favour was and didn't even consider it.
Wordlessly, Shirou locked eyes with Akame, and this time, Akame could not stay quiet.
"No." She said bluntly, tightening her grip around Shirou. "Never."
Staring at Akame's face, the mask she kept was gradually crumbling in real time. If Shirou kept pushing, the emotion buried beneath would inevitably pour out. And yet, when silence was being taken as consent, Shirou knew he had no choice.
"Why do you choose now to be stubborn?" He asked softly.
Akame froze, the twitch forming on her face finally twisting into blatant indignance and misery. She pursed her lips, and wiped at her eyes with an injured hand.
"What do you think you can even do?!" She shouted, her voice warbled with emotion on the brink of fallout.
Shirou swallowed, feeling stifled by the intensity of Akame's eyes. "I may not be able to do much, but I-"
"Dammit." Akame began glaring amidst the rumbling ground. She planted her hobbling foot firmly beneath her, and eyed the weapon Shirou stubbornly kept in his grip. Her muscles tightened, features shifting into a scowl. "It's that sword, isn't it? Give it to me. I'll do it."
"You wouldn't be able to, your hands are…" Shirou trailed off and shook his head, focusing away from what Akame could or could not do, and focusing on what she definitely can't. "Anyway, that's just the kind of sword it is. You need both magic, and the recognition to wield it."
Just like Teigu picked their wielder, the final sword Shirou had in hand possessed its own requirements. Requirements that Akame did not meet, and she knew it. Right, now she was just floundering and stubbornly began marching off again.
"Akame." Shirou tried to reason, not knowing that it was the final straw.
"But you said you had no magic energy left!" Akame rounded on Shirou, her thoughts a blur as raw emotion began to pour out from years of habitual repression. "How would you even use it…?"
She abruptly trailed off as suspicion reared its head.
Intuitively, Akame had long since had a feeling about what could act as a substitute for magic even without Shirou saying it. Everything was based on observation born from experience.
Every time Shirou had overtaxed himself, why was it that he always collapsed in exhaustion? The answer was there all along, accompanied by the noticeable strands of white hair suddenly emerging over Shirou's head.
"H-How much?!" Akame stammered, growing increasingly anxious.
Shirou made a face as he understood that Akame must have caught on. The jig was up, and trying to evade the topic would only make it worse.
He solemnly began to answer. "A couple year's worth-"
"No, fuck!" Akame couldn't stop herself from cursing, her eyes misting over as she asked what was most important to her. "How much will it take to swing that sword?!"
There was no reply, the deafening silence hammering at Akame's nerves.
"Answer me, or I swear I'll take that sword and throw it away!"
Shirou's expression hardened, no longer able to tell if Akame was being serious or not.
Nevertheless, "Will you take me?" He persisted and asked.
Akame's nerves frayed and shattered at the implication. Choosing not to answer was the same as answering to begin with.
"…That's not fair." She said bitterly. Tears unknowingly dripped down her eyes.
"I'll live." Shirou offered consolation, but it was weak and lacked substance.
How could Akame not notice in this world full of deceit?
"You think I can't tell that you don't even know yourself?!" She yelled, pulling Shirou closer and increasing her pace despite physical pain. Heart pain hurts far more. "You're mocking me."
"I'll live. I'll find a way-"
Akame wept, the emotions bursting out like a broken dam. Why couldn't he understand? Why couldn't he think about himself?
A right and just hero?!
To die for the sake of others before himself?
Why did he have to do any of that?!
"No more." She was crying, openly sobbing. "I'm sick of it all!"
Shirou reeled back, taken off guard by Akame's tears and grief.
"WHY!" She demanded of him. "Why do you have to die?!"
He had no answer.
Shirou could reason that it wasn't certain that he would die vs the certainty of everyone dying to the mutated Shikoutazer, but Akame would not accept that. Quite the opposite, those words would instigate her further. Having never allowed emotions to dictate her choices, she would never lean towards a rational choice.
"I'm not bringing you. I'm taking you out of here." Expectedly, Akame settled on her own course of action regardless of his say. "We'll wait until you've recovered your magic energy, and then you can swing your sword all you like."
"There's no time." Shirou reminded Akame of the stark reality.
Emotions denied it. "Yes, there is!"
"Akame."
"Fuck you. FUCK YOU. Just shut up."
The expression Akame was making now was a far cry from her usual cold facade; the extent of how long she had been holding back her emotions fueling the fire.
Even still, Shirou had no choice but to pour cold water.
"If that thing reaches the capital, do you know how many people will die?" He asked.
"Let them. The capital's a cesspit." Akame countered, unwilling to hear Shirou out further to the point she was no longer facing him.
"You know that's a lie." Shirou coaxed, trying to speak reason. "Those people in power would have fled the moment the capital fell under siege. The only ones left are the ones who can't leave, and are innocent of wrongdoing."
"Shut up! I told you to shut up!"
"What about Najenda, Lubbock, and everyone else?"
"…"
She stopped speaking.
"Akame, there's no time."
"..."
She stopped entertaining the very notion of arguing. She had her way, and they were doing it that way.
She trudged in silence, carrying Shirou through mud and dirt, over plains, and up to the crest of a hill that would soon take the Empire's capital out of sight. Her injured leg felt as if it was festering, her arms growing numb, and her body constantly shivered, but she just kept on walking.
Almost there. She was almost there.
"Akame-"
Shirou spoke up as if to offer another argument, but Akame was only growing irritated.
"Don't talk to me!" She snapped, before she heard his next words and felt like she'd just been stabbed again.
"-Here is good enough."
"W-What?"
Akame shakily looked down the crest of the hill she'd just reached the top of. Going down it would take the capital out of mind, but standing at the top, there was no clearer vantage point offered.
A small push, feeble yet stern, made Akame lose her grip and stumble to the ground.
A golden light began to rise, leaving any who saw it breathless, but all Akame could do was cry.
"...I'm sorry."
Words of apology carried in the wind.
-And a sword was swung.
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