The Last Shinobi

by derTraeumer

The number of shinobi drastically decreased over the past generations. People stopped using chakra as their source of power and focused on developing a modern society with the help of technology until they achieved space-flight and the Reapers harvested their civilization... all - except one. Follow the ninja way of the last living shinobi Akane Uchiha.

40. Loyalty And Sinister Plans

"Thinking"

"Talking"

"Impactful word"

---

Hackett POV

The Admiral had his hands full since Jane officially came back.

He hadn't met her, he didn't even know what Cerberus had done to her, he didn't know if he still fought for the person he fell in love with.

But he trusted Anderson, and if he said that it was Jane. The same Jane he always knew, then there was no question about it.

The Systems Alliance didn't take it well when the rumour of Shepard's affiliation with Cerberus began. They feared how it would affect their standing in the galactic community, especially within the Citadel Council, which Humanity became only recently part of. They would do anything to prevent jeopardising this position of power, even if it meant dropping their greatest hero to the vultures.

He would never let them dishonour her like that. He hated politics but for her, he would make temporary appearances in parliament if it would help her in any way. It was good that he was stationed at Arcturus Station, right at the seat of the Alliance. One might call it favouritism, but to him it was the right thing to do, career and reputation be damned.

Would he have done the same for another soldier?

Most likely not.

But Shepard was not like any other soldier.

Many politicians would have her court-martialed for treason, but they forgot how well-beloved the Commander was to the rest and got outvoted every time. Having strong ties with the top brass also helped. Most of the Admirals were on his side, safe for Admiral Lindholm and Singh. They remained impartial. The lower brass held her, as a fellow soldier, in high regard. Even more so since she helped Rear Admiral Kahoku find his missing crew.

Prime Minister Shastri knew and liked Shepard, that he also happened to be a decent friend to him and a good judge of character was a bonus. Anderson had his back at the Citadel Council. It was enough to silence their opposition for a while.

What made him worry right now was something else entirely.

A deep-covert operative in batarian space, Dr Amanda Kenson, suddenly contacted him. Since the nature of her operation required secrecy, he had instructed her only to message him when necessary. And in this case, it absolutely was. The message was simple. She had found evidence of an imminent Reaper invasion. The batarians found out about it and held her arrested on terrorism charges in prison.

The message arrived this morning and he couldn't figure out a way to help her ever since.

---

Akane POV

The kunoichi awoke suddenly from her dreamless slumber. Her room was dark and quiet, no wonder why she slept so well. However, the absence of nightmares played a part too. A bottle of water was put purposefully nearby, she reached for it with a sluggish hand to take a gracious sip.

Flitting a hand over her face, she scrubbed away at the last remnants of sleep before her stomach grumbled. Her appetite had become twice as big since the previous mission. Chakra exhaustion was no joke. Her body had to replenish the lost energy somehow after all. She got lucky that she had the mind to stop before it would have left her bedridden for a week; at worst: dead.

Her drowsy steps certainly gave no impression of improved health. Not when they were so heavy, but her face looked rested. She met her crew in the kitchen, where she heard them talking. They stopped once she passed the threshold, and it annoyed her a bit, for she knew they would crowd her when she wanted space.

Akane knew their attentions stemmed from a place of worry and that it was most likely (which always seemed to be the case with her) justified. Inhaling through her nose, letting it strengthen the words of positive reinforcement she recited for situations like this.

It's okay to ask for help once in a while. You're not a burden. You're not weak.

It used to be much worse back in the days when hate consumed her very being. The kunoichi in the making was as stubborn as a mule back then, refusing aid even in dire times. Being supported made her feel a burden, unreliable and the worst - helpless. The same she felt when her mother lost her life. So much so that even at the Normandy, she seldom let the others help unless she requested it from them.

Three years of relentless anger and hatred against two years of emotionless limbo.

When was the last time she had just felt... okay?

Well, her two-year spiritual journey convinced her of one thing: healing was incredibly difficult. Resurfacing emotions and assimilating them back into a once-empty shell was one hell of an undertaking. It was no wonder she had sundered herself from that when it became all too much. The easy way out— the quick fix —a coward's way.

Hilo stood up from his place as soon as she saw her, bumping his slender hip against the edge of the table.

Posk snickered at his haste, "You look like shit."

Akane grimaced, refilling her glass of water that she chucked down her parched throat with pleasure, "Feel like it, too. Thank you for the water by the way."

Hilo looked anxious, and Akane wondered why, "You've been out for days, Akane."

Straight to the heavy stuff, alright.

The shinobi's face betrayed nothing for a second but inside, the small flame of anger had vanished by now. Morphing instead into a look of quiet understanding. As if she hadn't accounted for something and only now realized it. Sometimes she forgot...

They knew she was special, that she was... different. It went unsaid between them, even if Posk wished for some supernatural clarification to sate his child-like curiosity. Guessing her abilities became a beloved pastime for him. That, and randomly inventing harmless superhero names for her, most often based on his favourite fantasy works. Hilo on the other hand...

The quarian respected her choice to keep it for herself, even if he, more times than not, encountered difficulties while adjusting the equipment to her powers. He always made it work, proof of his geniality, but for him, it never felt perfect enough. Her decision wasn't based on a luck of trust on her part, but he understood that she did it for their own protection. The Terminus Saint was of interest to many, good or bad. Should her crew fall into the enemy's hands... his expression darkened all of sudden, fragments of his mind taking him back to a place full of pain, darkness and misery.

Akane caught his hand within a moment, saving him from relapsing into the past. Peaceful and tender eyes met him, speaking of infinite understanding and comfort. It was mind-boggling to him, how she always intuitively knew when another episode came upon him.

How could he possibly not have fallen for her?

Meanwhile, the shinobi, while it hadn't escaped her noticed how the quarian's gaze would often linger. His feelings for her were quite subtle, always bouncing on the line between coming to light and hiding from plain sight. They became stronger the longer they knew each other. In all their time together, she never confronted him about it. Partly because she wanted him to sort it out himself, and partly because she feared what it would mean for their already-established friendship. It wasn't something she felt ready for.

"Forgive me," she began apologetically, "I may have overused my powers."

"Is there any way we can help you?"

Akane cocked her head imperceptibly, "Not much. I just need rest and nutrition. My strength should return within a week," she grew quiet again, her eyes evading theirs before they settled on Posk, "Any updates from our channels?"

Posk decided to let her up on this change of topic and began to share what he had learnt while she rested, "Since the atmosphere here soured my appetite, I will start with the good news first. The Collectors retreated to their homeworld after our little stunt. Our allied colonies also reported no sightings of their reappearance, so we must have hit them pretty hard."

Her gaze turned calculative within a second, her cunning side taking over, "They are likely rethinking their strategy. Trying to account for Shepard's unexpected interference and what it means for their operations moving onward. The Reapers have taken a disturbing interest in the Commander ever since she stopped Sovereign at the Battle of the Citadel. Now that she's back, even in Cerberus colours, the Reapers are at odds."

"I understand that she's a real-life hero - Wonder Woman and all that. If you ask me most heroes should win in the end, but let's be real for once. Life doesn't work that way. I always wondered how she's done all that, it sounds almost surreal."

"Haven't you gathered enough from the media?" Akane retorted.

"Hey, now don't sell me for stupid, the GNN is the last place to search for the truth." The batarian pursed his thin lips, hiding the rows of sharp teeth as he took on a pensive stance. Yet he suddenly sprung from his seat like an excited puppy, "Say, didn't you mention being part of her crew once?"

Akane sighed, knowing he would ask eventually, "Indeed, I was."

The shinobi knew she wouldn't talk herself out of this one, Posk had already given her a pass. Effectively cornered, she began to spin a tale of how she became part of the crew. Sticking to the truth, Akane didn't make it sound like a marvellous tale, much to Posk's displeasure.

"In other words, Commander Shepard is a statistical aberration?" Hilo interjected, carefully following her train of thought. Akane pinned him with a glare, he had the mind to look sheepish.

Posk tsked indignantly, "THAT is your take?"

Hilo scoffed right back at him, getting defensive, "What are you on about this time?"

It wasn't long before a round of bickering ensued between them much like every time their opinions differed. Finding herself often on the neutral side of their bickering, strangely endeared them towards her. Akane received great entertainment from their little quarrels, not that she would ever tell them. It got her thinking about the bygone days of her once-normal childhood, of times when she would engage in such activities with her twin here and there.

"She is so much more than that," Akane interjected softly, tapping her fingers contemplatively against her cup.

Posk bailed her out of it, gesturing absurdly in his way, "So... other than Commander Shepard being a personified badass, there's one thing I can't wrap my head around. If you're somewhere around twenty-one years old now, how old were you when you joined the Shepard Squad?"

This man, 'Shepard Squad', seriously? Akane leant forward, hiding the lower portion of her face behind the hand that held the cup, "Young."

The batarian's four eyes narrowed in sync. Impressive, she had never seen a batarian do that before, "How young?"

The shinobi dared to hide her answer behind a cough, but she underestimated Posk's hearing and he almost flew off his chair, "EXCUSE ME?! You lied to me about your age!"

"No," she started calmly, "I just fell short of your assumptions."

Hilo bailed within a second, not in the mood to deal with the often ridiculous outbursts of their crew mate. See, he knew because he asked! Akane's expression fell comically, "Oh boy, here we go..."

That man went on a whole rant, and she had let him, suspecting he was just venting. When he didn't give her a chance to clarify, it was then that the kunoichi realized he seemed quite upset with this. More than she expected.

"As you may know... Shit, who doesn't know... we're about the only race that still practices slavery. It is an integral part of our caste system - our culture. And..."

He breathed a heavy, defeated sigh. His chipper facade crumbled into a more sombre one, very unlike himself, "I was born on Khar'shan, into the working caste. You see, our caste system is much more complicated than it's oftentimes explained. My mother used to be a caste above us. Her family was well off, they owned a successful business corporation... that was until she met my father."

His face tightened, but his eyes, his many eyes... mirrored a cesspool of dark emotions. His hatred for his father became known to her immediately. It was ugly, it was potent, it was... she didn't like to see it on him. Her eyes captured his, conveying a message. Akane would listen, without judgment, without interference. It was something that fell easy for her.

"He made her fall in love with her, promised her that he was worth it. Worth lowering her social standing. That bastard lied through his teeth, entangled her into a web of lies and false promises until he finally got into her pants. She became pregnant, with me, which caused quite the scandal once the media found out about it. What they did, brought shame upon the family, and to herself, so much so that she decided to marry soon after so she could try to mitigate the damage somehow. My father faced some backlash too, for overstepping his place, for reaching too high. My mother's mother - grandmother? - supported her for a while but eventually, the damage to the family name and reputation became too much. It tarnished their business so much that grandfather thought it better to cut all ties with his only daughter. He had two spares left anyways."

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, "Yes, he disowned her. Over one stupid decision. Over a..." his voice cracked, it chipped painfully at the woman's heart, "... a mistake."

The first thing that came to her mind was 'Wrong'. He wasn't a mistake. It sounded so wrong coming from him. Akane's throat clogged with the weight of his self-deprecating words. Her head shook in denial, how could he think about himself so badly?

How could you have?

"I don't know what good my father thought would come out of it, perhaps he thought he could climb up in caste. Selfish, just like I remember him. In the end, he stayed where he was and dragged my mother with him. We moved cities. My mother had no choice but to stay with him, when everyone from her family abandoned her like that. Some years passed. We were doing well for ourselves in the working caste before my father's gambling addiction began. As you may already suspect, he fucked up one day - big time - but he didn't tell us that. To pay off his debt, he- he..."

He took his head between his shaking hands, hands she reached for in hopes of soothing his pain. He flinched when she touched him with her smaller, scarred hands, "What did he do, Posk?"

The batarian relaxed his fingers at her soothing tone, slowly coming back to her as he lifted his head from its slumped state, "He sold us. Turned out I fetched quite the prize with my talent for hacking, enough for father to switch castes. We never saw him again."

He laughed bitterly, "Life became a nightmare after that. We became indentured slaves to a company that valued us less than dirt. My childhood was cut short by work, we got to keep our apartment but we rarely saw each other anymore. She worked different times than I did, and when we met we were just too tired to spend our time meaningfully. It was hard to get by with the low wage we got to keep from work, but we managed somehow for the next five years until..."

Many feelings stirred within the kunoichi, most belonging to the bad sort. Akane never liked hearing her friends suffer, it made her want to help, soothe, and fix. But this was a thing of the past, not the present. In return, she admired his openness to talk about it. Confessing all that must have been difficult. She wouldn't dive deeper into it even if she had questions.

Look who's now at the short end of the stick.

From what he had said, it was enough to connect the dots in her head, "You fear Shepard had me work under her unwillingly?"

He looked away again, hiding his glassy eyes, but she wouldn't let him, "I do."

She took a moment to think it over, yes, she understood now. The reason he would think that, considering the time and space and implications, "I understand your concern, considering my young age at the time, but it was my wish to join Commander Shepard. In fact, many were against it initially, not that I fault them for that. I had to prove myself in front of the entire crew."

The tension in his body lessened with the bad memories. She was dangling a piece of meat right in front of him. Her reassuring words seemed to have lifted more than his spirit as he chuckled, "When you say it like that, it sounds so epic, you HAVE to tell me about it sometime."

With the heaviness in the air gone, their conversation slowly but surely switched into the usual lighthearted banter she was used to. They would head back for Omega to refill their rations and hit up some contacts.

"Ooh, great idea! I am finally getting my hands on that Blasto figure I've been searching for!"

Akane blinked at him, taken back by his enthusiasm but relieved that his mood had gotten even better, "Sure..."

Posk wouldn't have it with her look, "You're judging me again, aren't you? It's limited edition! One of only a thousand ever made! You know how much it will be worth in a few years?!"

The kunoichi deadpanned even more, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Seeing her standing up, he knew she would continue pulling his leg unless he accepted her careful pretense, "Anyways, Hilo also needs some parts for his little projects and..."

Akane was cleaning up after herself when he stopped talking, "... and I've caught wind of a rumour that my country fellows got their hands on an ancient artefact. It was quite fiercely guarded behind walls of encryption. Weren't it for my delicate expertise and undeniable talent..."

Not again with the peacocking. She hummed dryly in affirmation, "Don't you just sound convinced. It's a good thing we'll make a trip to our local hub, I will have my associates investigate if there is anything more to it. Nice work."

The four-eyed man made a sound, low and whiny, utterly disappointed, "Don't I get more than that? Maybe even a- argh!"

One splash of water to the face left him spluttering and flailing in his seat, calling her cruel. Akane couldn't help but laugh derisively as he couldn't decide which pair of eyes to rub at first. Maybe she was, a little bit, but Kami, did it feel good to wake up for once.

---

Shepard POV

The turmoil inside her settled for a while.

The redhead spent much less time in seclusion, holed up in her cabin. Tali wouldn't let her, and Garrus wasn't that far behind. In his typical turian fashion, he offered sparring sessions. It was frustrating at the beginning, to have them invade her private space whenever they liked, she had even snapped at them a few times when her anger got the better of her. It would follow with her retreating even further into herself because she felt guilty. Jane hated it, hated herself when she felt confused and bitter and angry and...

They would, in return, never take offence, even if she had a hard time believing them at some point. It honestly made her feel like a burden, but they took the weight of her emotions with stride. Encouraged it even. Because they truly cared about her. Because they were her friends. Jane came close to crying that day.

With time, Jane became more relaxed within her routine. While the usual doubts and thoughts continued to plague her, some days more than others, it didn't feel as heavy and oppressive as before. Much to her frustration, and admittance, talking about it with Garrus and Tali here and there helped. She wasn't necessarily comfortable with it, some topics were often too much too soon, but they never pushed her.

Jesus Christ, what has she done to deserve them?

Kelly noticed the positive impact they had on her as well, but except for a passing comment, the Commander's mental health was never brought up again during their talks. Of course, she did ask how she was holding up occasionally, but it was a harmless check-up. Nothing that would have aggravated her like before.

Chambers brought to her attention that Jacob had left a message for her.

Commander Jane Shepard strode through the wilds of Aeia, her squadmates, Jacob and Miranda, flanking her in silence. Her boots echoed with each step, each footfall punctuating the simmering anger that was building within her. She had seen Cerberus's so-called 'research' far too often and in too many twisted forms. As much as she respected Jacob's loyalty to his squad and honorable service, she couldn't ignore the darkness Cerberus represented or forget the lives they had destroyed under the guise of 'progress'.

In her mind, she could still see Project Overlord and the broken minds it left behind, another nightmare to pile on top of the scars Cerberus had already carved into her life. She glanced at Jacob, his face taut, and reminded herself he wasn't as deep in Cerberus as Miranda. But still, part of her held reservations. Trust was a fickle thing, especially with anyone working for The Illusive Man—a man who'd turned horror into a method, who'd overseen some of the most monstrous experiments she'd ever encountered.

As they moved through the halls, they encountered the broken survivors of Ronald Taylor's reign, each of them haunted, half-starved, hollow-eyed, their souls worn down by years of terror and degradation. Their testimonies only deepened Shepard's doubts about Cerberus. This wasn't survival, and it wasn't necessary—it was just cruelty. She clenched her fists, the darkness of her own past rising up to join her disgust, flashing back to some of the worst examples of Cerberus's betrayal.

She had learnt about Akuze. Fifty marines, young and inexperienced, lured to their deaths by a Cerberus distress beacon so they could study the feeding habits of thresher maws. They had fed an entire unit to those monsters, testing them like animals. She'd never forget it—especially since the organization Jacob now trusted had gone on to experiment on Corporal Toombs, the sole survivor, twisting his mind and body just to push their science a bit further. And then there was Edolus, where an Alliance patrol had been lured by Cerberus to their deaths. The same fate had befallen Admiral Kahoku, a good man with the gall to seek the truth. He'd uncovered Cerberus's tracks, but they'd caught up to him, leaving his broken body among thorian creepers and rachni like some sort of twisted display.

All of it kept surfacing, twisting in her mind as she marched through Aeia, eyeing Jacob with a mix of pity and distrust. He thought Cerberus was a force for good, that he could change them from within. But here they were again, at yet another scene where Cerberus had unleashed hell on innocent people. Each face they passed reminded her of the 150 people on Chasca—their lives ended by dragon's teeth, impaled and turned to husks like tools. Cerberus had wiped out an entire colony to see if Reaper tech worked on human bodies.

When they reached Ronald Taylor's hideout, the horrors became clear in full. Taylor had carved out a warped kingdom of control and suffering, forcing the crew into obedience, degrading their humanity, all to solidify his rule. Taylor's attempt to justify his actions, calling it survival, felt like acid to Shepard's ears. Every sick excuse, every hollow justification, mirrored Cerberus's own lies.

"Necessary?" Shepard hissed, barely able to contain her fury. "You think using these people, breaking them, is somehow justified? I've seen what Cerberus calls survival—and it's a twisted, broken version of it. This wasn't survival. This was you."

Jacob's face contorted, the betrayal striking him raw as he looked at the man he had once idolized. "I wanted to be a soldier because of you," he said, his voice cracking. "Now, looking at what you've become, I don't even recognize the man I followed."

Shepard could sense the deep hurt in Jacob's voice, but her mind was too busy connecting the rot she saw here to the larger horror Cerberus represented. Ronald Taylor might have acted on his own, but his cruelty and control were symptoms of Cerberus's mindset, of their willingness to do whatever necessary to achieve their goals. And with Jacob's father no longer denying his crimes, Shepard had little sympathy to spare.

Ronald only scoffed, glancing back with a sneer. "If you'd gone through what I did, you'd understand."

But Shepard had no patience left for his excuses. "I've seen your kind of survival before," she spat. "A colony turned to husks on Chasca. Marines fed to thresher maws on Akuze. None of it's 'necessary.' It's cowardice, and people like you—and the people pulling your strings—are the worst kind of filth."

Jacob's jaw clenched, his anger focused as he took the pistol from his father and loaded one round into the chamber. "You're not worth the uniform I wore. I'm done."

As they turned to leave, Shepard took a final glance at Ronald Taylor's fallen figure. She sent a quick message to Cerberus, arranging for the retrieval of survivors, determined to see that at least they would get a chance to rebuild. But the whole incident left a bitter taste. For Jacob, his father's twisted legacy was something he could now confront, but for her, Cerberus remained the poison running through every dark corner of her past.

Back on the Normandy, Shepard could see the shadow that lingered in Jacob's eyes. Cerberus had saved her life, but she knew they could never save themselves.

---

Akane POV

Each went their way once they were docked.

Hilo went shopping for parts. Posk went to get that action figure. She dearly hoped they wouldn't go to the black market to conduct their business. Marsh was right, after all, it may be cheaper, but twice as risky. She had gotten her new ID from there, but it cost her almost all of her credits, and clothes...

And Akane, well, there was a lot she had to do.

Meet up with a few people, mingle... the usual.

Altin didn't have anything new to report. Now, that's a lie. Because Omega was one of those stations where something always happened (it was part of its charm), but nothing worth her attention... for now. Perhaps she would overhear something interesting over the next few days.

After several talks with vendors and contacts on Omega, Akane was none the wiser. Could they have found out about the leaks? It wasn't that unusual for one of her, or rather, their agents to be cut off from the network if there was a chance that confidential information made it to false ears.

No, this was something else for it to be this hush-hush. Perhaps Posk wasn't exaggerating. Even if it wouldn't bode well to fixate on a mere rumour, something in her just pushed her to investigate further. Call it an educated guess from the many times she got led to dead-ends.

But other than the encrypted data Posk salvaged, that was not much to go on about. With the retreat of their number one enemy, they had inadvertedly bought themselves some time to remain on Omega longer than was usual for them. For the time being, she made her way back to the ship with empty hands, shrouded from sight in her dark cloak.

---

Shepard POV

On an honest note, she was the last person she expected to come to her for a personal matter as this.

Commander Jane Shepard wasn't entirely sure she could trust Miranda Lawson. The woman was The Illusive Man's second-in-command and embodied everything Shepard questioned about Cerberus. But when Miranda asked for help, the plea was deeply personal: her younger sister, Oriana, was in danger, and only Miranda could protect her from their father's reach. Shepard understood the stakes; she'd seen how these buried family ties could pull a person apart, especially in someone as guarded as Miranda. Even with that knowledge, though, she approached the mission with caution.

Shepard had chosen Jacob as their third for this mission. It felt like an obvious choice. Jacob's recent confrontation with his own father had left its mark, a heavy reminder of the complex, painful ties family could weave. Though her trust in him was not yet complete—his Cerberus loyalty lingered as a question she couldn't shake—Jacob's steady strength, his unflinching dedication to doing what was right, brought a calm that Shepard hoped would anchor Miranda. The two had known each other longer than anyone else on the Normandy. If anyone could offer Miranda some measure of solace or solidarity, it was him.

Landing on Illium, Miranda was tense, her focus absolute. Her eyes stayed fixed on the objective, though the slight clench of her jaw hinted at something far more vulnerable lurking underneath. She'd entrusted an old friend, Niket, to help smuggle Oriana to safety, a rare act of trust for someone as guarded as Miranda. But as they moved through the transport facility, something felt off. Shepard caught glimpses of Niket's unease—the slight tremor in his hands, a glance that lingered too long on Miranda, as though he was making peace with something neither she nor Jacob yet understood. And when they were cornered by Eclipse mercenaries led by an asari who revealed Niket's betrayal, the blow was immediate and raw.

Miranda's expression froze, disbelief and hurt flashing in her eyes. Shepard felt it too, the shocking weight of Niket's actions cutting through Miranda's guarded facade like a knife. But when Niket tried to justify himself, claiming Oriana would be safer with her father, Shepard's disgust hardened. To hear this man—a man Miranda had trusted—dismiss her sister's autonomy and safety so easily only deepened Shepard's mistrust.

"I trusted you, Niket," Miranda whispered, her voice breaking for the first time. The quiet betrayal in her words was gut-wrenching.

The asari smirked, twisting the knife further, sneering at Miranda as just another cold Cerberus operative, molded by the same ruthlessness she'd once escaped. Shepard could see Miranda wrestling with that accusation, the asari's taunt prodding at a wound already torn open. Before she could even react, the asari cut Niket down, leaving Miranda with a grief as swift and merciless as a gunshot. Miranda jumped the asari with such rage that Jack would be proud of.

Shepard's gaze moved between Miranda and Niket's lifeless body. She could see the grief and fury warring on Miranda's face. Jacob stepped forward, his expression somber. "It's okay to mourn him, Miranda. He meant something to you, even if he let you down."

Miranda's expression remained guarded, but Shepard sensed the cracks beginning to show. Niket had been one of the last pieces of her life untouched by Cerberus, one of the few connections she thought she could rely on. That he'd betrayed her and her sister to the very threat she was trying to protect against was a devastating blow.

As they pressed on to secure Oriana's extraction, Shepard kept close to Miranda. This loss, this brutal betrayal, had shaken her. Shepard knew the weight of unresolved grief, and as they confirmed Oriana's safety, she stood alongside Miranda, watching the young girl from a distance. Oriana was blissfully unaware of how close she'd come to being drawn into a life of control and manipulation, unaware of the people who had fought for her freedom.

In spite of her reservations, Shepard felt like she understood Miranda a little better now.

"You could introduce yourself," Shepard said softly, placing a hand on Miranda's shoulder. "Oriana deserves to know her sister, the person who fought for her to have the life she has now."

Miranda hesitated, her cold composure slipping as she watched Oriana from afar, a look of raw longing in her eyes. "I don't know… She has her life. A good one. Maybe it's better if I stay in the shadows."

Shepard shook her head, her voice gentle yet firm. "You don't have to hide who you are, Miranda. You're her sister, no matter what Cerberus or your father tried to shape you into. If you want a life beyond duty, start with the people who matter. Give her the chance to know you."

Miranda nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on Oriana. Shepard saw in her a flicker of vulnerability Cerberus had tried so hard to stamp out. With Jacob beside them, she sensed that maybe, just maybe, Miranda could begin to accept her own worth beyond Cerberus's ideals.

Back on the Normandy, Miranda retreated to her quarters, the weight of Niket's betrayal settling heavily around her. Shepard suspected Miranda would finally allow herself to grieve, but as she watched Jacob nod to her in understanding before parting ways, she felt a glimmer of hope. Jacob, too, seemed changed by this. Confronting his own family's darkness had hardened his resolve, and despite Cerberus's shadow over his own choices, Shepard sensed he was beginning to see where his loyalty truly lay. Perhaps, despite everything, Miranda could learn to find strength and loyalty beyond The Illusive Man's reach.

And maybe, Shepard thought, as she looked between her two Cerberus allies, she could find a reason to trust them both a little more.

---

Akane POV

Doubt began to settle in her mind. A week has passed since their arrival and none of her sources provided anything useful to this supposed 'artefact' the batarian illegibly found. The few Cerberus and Shadow Broker agents under her control reported nothing that could give her even a hint that this wasn't just some wild goose chase.

Against what she had been taught, she was getting impatient on this discreet recon mission, to such an extent that she began dipping her toes where it was unwise.

Into Aria's bussiness.

No matter how many times she found her way back to Omega, there were two rules that stuck out in her head the moment she stepped foot on this station.

1. Aria is Omega.

2. You don't fuck with Aria.

Guess what she did, she fucked with Aria.

Well, not exactly with her, but she did get discovered deep into Blue Suns' territory. Her cloak did a marvelous job hiding her identity, but not enough to prevent the motion scanners from picking up her trail.

Rookie mistake. One that wouldn't have happened had she had her armor on. Akane's presence caused an immediate uproar and all hell broke loose within the next few minutes. The kunoichi disappeared from the scene like a shadow, scaling walls and traversing tunnels, everything was connected on this ugly station.

Reviewing the data she extracted from their network, the risk she took had been for nothing. There were some parts worth a handful credits if given to the right people, but still nothing on the Hegemony. And even worse, she would have to lay low for a while since she drew one pair of eyes too many. Akane wouldn't dare to let it escalate to a point the Queen of Omega would begin to investigate.

Her disappointment was immeasurable, frustration didn't begin to cover it, but it was nothing she couldn't vent about to Hilo. He didn't mind her occasional rambling while he tinkered with his tools on her equipment.

"That doesn't sound like something you would do, at all..." Hilo softly remarked from his table, engaged but evidently focused on straightening the nicks on her armor.

"True, I lost my patience for a second. It is difficult not to when the nature of this artefact remains a mystery." Akane responded, lounging on the quarian's desk chair that he often pushed out of the way because it got in his way during repairs.

"I've never seen a potential lead have such a hold on you," he stopped what he was doing, thinking over his words, "you almost look... scared."

Ouch.

That hit a little too close to home. Probably because it was the truth. This silenced the kunoichi, averting her gaze to the ground. She missed Hilo looking at her over his shoulder, so very eager to get her to open up but still trying to be mindful of her boundaries. This was the way many conversations found their end when it came to them - with the young woman failing to just open up. Let go of whatever was sewing her mouth shut.

It would never leave Akane's mind, how she was practically running from vulnerability.

Hilo, ever having the patience of a saint, was never at fault for this. He always respected her choice to stay silent, even telling her that she didn't have to tell him if she didn't want to but... but as a matter of fact, she WANTED him to know. At times desperately so. Sometimes she would just wish for him to cross that line. Push her a little more so she would finally buckle.

It wasn't only the fear of opening up. There was also shame, guilt and... so... many... other... things. He wouldn't understand. Nobody could understand. The only person who HAD understood was dead. Killed by her own hand.

She had so much darkness. In her past, in her present...

Akane had done things, terrible things she would never forgive herself for. Unforgivable, unjustifiable, and yet so very unpreventable. It was eating her alive.

As a shinobi, she believed she would never get this far in the war to feel like that. Akane thought that death would take her sooner than later. But as cruel fate would have it, she now found herself as the last living specimen of her people, very much aware that she didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve to live when good, honorable men and women— children! —were buried ten feet deep underground.

A haunted look entered her obsidian eyes, one that was all too familiar to Hilo, for she could never hide that well. It pained him to be the reason that put into such a state, but he couldn't walk on eggshells around her forever. If only he knew how to get her out of it without pushing her into it even stronger.

This was out of his depth. The quarian had a strong sense of community, he grew up surrounded by people he could safely share himself with, even if in the end, they did emphasize group welfare over individual needs.

After what seemed to be like a lifetime, the quietness was broken by the brittle voice of Akane, "I am."

He hummed, his voice sifting softly through the filter of his helmet, "May I know the reason?"

A gaping, old wound in her heart pulsed painfully, gripping her by her vices, it was clear that she would rather not tell and he was beyond tempted to apologize for his insensitive prying but the kunoichi beat him to it, "It was because of such an artefact that I have lost everything that was ever dear to me."

Her heart-broken tone shook him to his core, she might have seen his tearful expression had he not been turned away from her. This was not what he had expected. Even if his feelings exceeded beyond that of friendship, he never wanted to hurt her. In fact, he feared he might have dug too deep but the woman shook herself awake soon enough, almost as if it was second-nature to her.

"Thank you for telling me this," he expressed cautiously, evading her gaze as he fiddled mindlessly with a piece of technology. She moved towards the door in the meantime, feeling awkward on how to respond to this without just disappearing.

"Thank you, for listening, I will be in my room for a while." She tried to soften her voice, to tell him that even if it hurt to get part of the truth out, that his concern was appreciated but nothing but cold steel left her mouth.

She needed time to think.

---

Shepard POV

Jane had had her misgivings about Jack ever since TIM forwarded her dossier. That had never stopped her before, but still... It wasn't every day she invited straight-up criminals onto her ship. Then again, at this point, she might consider herself one.

This made Shepard include Jack in her rounds.

Jack was a tough cookie to crack. The tattooed biotic wasn't too happy about it, never had someone under her command tell her to fuck off so many times, but she was making progress—slow, painful progress.

Commander Jane Shepard knew the look in Jack's eyes all too well. She'd seen it before in other soldiers—those with pasts so jagged that no amount of distance could dull the edges. Jack had been taken as a child, brutalized, and shaped into a weapon by Cerberus (they had done it again!), known for years only as Subject Zero. She wanted to return to the abandoned Cerberus facility on Pragia—a place that haunted her nightmares—and destroy every last trace of it.

When Jack asked for help, Shepard agreed without hesitation. She also knew that Garrus might be the one to help Jack see beyond her anger. Garrus was a steady hand, unflinching, but he, too, had been shaped by betrayal and disappointment.

As they landed on Pragia, Shepard could feel the tension radiating from Jack. The facility loomed darkly against the dense jungle, an oppressive shadow amid the thick fog. Inside, broken cells and rusted equipment lay scattered like tombstones of Jack's stolen childhood. Each empty cell, each broken-down console, seemed to pull her further into herself, and Shepard knew Jack was reliving memories too raw to bear alone.

Garrus walked beside her, his eyes scanning the facility with a calm that Shepard knew was only skin-deep. He had his own ghosts here—old wounds from the Saleon mission, memories of victims he couldn't save. And not for the first time, she thought there was something more recent that wore on him. She could see glimpses of it sometimes, like a storm behind his usual resolve.

Deeper into the facility, it became clear they weren't alone. Blood Pack mercenaries had taken over parts of the ruins, likely scavenging for any Cerberus tech or data they could sell. The air was thick with the acrid tang of spent thermal clips as the team moved carefully through the corridors. Jack's biotics flared dangerously as they encountered their first group of krogan and vorcha, her raw power tossing enemies like ragdolls into the broken walls. Shepard and Garrus covered her, firing in perfect synchrony, but the sheer number of Blood Pack reinforcements soon forced them to fall back.

It was during this chaos that they discovered the source of the mercenaries' interest—a man named Aresh. One of the surviving children from Jack's time at Pragia. Unlike Jack, who had escaped and rebelled against the horrors inflicted upon them, Aresh had chosen a darker path. He was standing amidst a group of Blood Pack mercenaries, his expression defiant and eerily calm as he faced Jack.

"You!" Jack's voice was a raw snarl, her biotics flaring dangerously, "You were here. You were part of this!"

Aresh didn't flinch, nor did he activate his biotics in defense, "Yes, I was. And I remember everything. Every punishment. Every test. Every time they broke us to see what would happen."

He stepped forward, his voice steady but full of twisted conviction, "But I'm not running from it. This place? What they did to us? It wasn't for nothing."

Jack's eyes widened in disbelief, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"They made us strong, Jack," Aresh said, gesturing around the decrepit facility, "They gave us power, and now we can use it. I'm going to finish what they started. I'm going to turn this place into something new. A training ground, a refuge for biotics like us. Our pain will mean something."

Jack's fury seemed to grow with every word he spoke, her fists clenching tightly, "You think this justifies what they did to us? You're as sick as they were!"

"It's better than pretending it never happened!" Aresh shot back, "Better than running away."

Before Jack could react, Garrus stepped between them, his tone firm but calm, "Jack, don't let him pull you into this. He's just another Cerberus victim trying to make sense of what they did to him. Killing him won't change anything."

Shepard added, her voice steady, "Aresh is trying to give his pain meaning by inflicting it on others. Don't let him win by dragging you down with him."

Jack hesitated, her biotics still glowing faintly around her. She stared at Aresh, a mix of anger and pity flashing across her face. Then, finally, she let out a sharp breath and stepped back.

"You're pathetic," she said, her voice cold, turning away from him, "You're not worth the effort."

As they left Aresh behind, Jack was quiet. The weight of her choice was clear on her face, but it was also evident that she'd taken a step forward—one that didn't involve violence and destruction. Shepard didn't press her, knowing that Jack needed time to process what had happened.

Back at the shuttle, the facility erupted in a controlled explosion, set by Shepard's team. Jack stood watching the flames consume the last remnants of her past, her expression unreadable.

"Feel better?" Garrus asked, his tone light but laced with genuine curiosity.

Jack smirked, a flicker of amusement breaking through, "You could say that. Maybe."

On the flight back to the Normandy, Shepard caught Garrus watching Jack with something like respect. Whatever darkness he carried seemed momentarily tempered, and she made a mental note to check in with him later. For now, she simply marveled at the strength in her crew—not just their ability to fight, but their resilience in the face of the past.

And Jack? Jack was proof that even the deepest scars could begin to heal, given time and the right kind of help.

---

Akane POV

It had been hours since the shinobi moved from her position on the floor.

At the beginning of her training, young and full of life as she was, meditation had been her least favorite way of enhancing spiritual energy - one of the two primal energies that made up Chakra apart from physical energy. It had been part of her introduction to the ways of the shinobi.

At least so she was taught.

In fact, she had reason to believe that this might not be so.

One of her shadow clones has returned recently, after a solid two years of exploring a variety of cultures, but with a special fixation on the Asari. It was by pure chance that her clone had stumbled upon Niacal.

Akane's clone had been wandering the bustling, gritty streets of Niacal, fascinated by the unfiltered way of life she observed. The neon lights reflected off her, casting her in blues and purples, a stark contrast to the regulated spaces on Thessia she'd previously heard about. Every corner was packed with asari from all walks of life, and the technology around them showed signs of wear—a mix of innovation and survival in a city operating on looser rules.

It was during one of these explorations that she stumbled upon whispers of an Eclipse smuggling ring. Intrigued, she followed the information trail, her instincts on high alert. The news she gathered was shocking: Eclipse mercenaries were smuggling an Ardat-Yakshi off-world; a rare and dangerous genetic anomaly among asari. The very nature of the Ardat-Yakshi's abilities made them a profitable target, no matter Eclipse's ultimate intent. This discovery left Akane no choice—she couldn't turn a blind eye to a crime so severe, especially when it involved an innocent being exploited for powers beyond her control.

Akane kept to the shadows, weaving through Niacal's labyrinthine alleys as she traced Eclipse's movements. Information had been sparse—the Eclipse were meticulous, keeping the details of their operation buried under layers of false leads. But her patience was paying off. She found the mercenaries' trail leading toward an isolated industrial district at the city's edge, where towering, derelict warehouses loomed against Niacal's dark sky.

She pressed forward, planning her approach. As she neared a hidden vantage point, movement caught her eye—a figure in a dark, armored suit, moving with a precision that mirrored her own. The asari warrior wore the distinct crimson band of a Justicar, and even from this distance, her steely focus was unmistakable. A Justicar's presence here spoke volumes: Eclipse's crime had drawn attention from those who dealt in a strict, lethal justice.

The Justicar seemed to have already breached the perimeter, taking out the guards with swift, silent strikes. Akane observed, assessing her own entry point. This would be delicate; Justicars were fiercely bound to their Code, and crossing paths with one could be… complicated. But as she watched, the Justicar was drawn into a fight with an additional squad of Eclipse soldiers who appeared, forcing her into open combat. She was vastly outbumbered but when the shinobi spied the telltale glow of biotics, she knew the Eclipse were completely outmatched. The distraction, however, provided Akane with the perfect opportunity.

Sliding into the shadows, Akane bypassed Eclipse's defenses, slipping into the warehouse's back entrance. Inside, a young asari, bound and looking more afraid than defiant, was kept in a containment field. The dull hum of the field's energy filled the space, and she looked up as Akane approached, her violet eyes wide with a mix of fear and something darker—a self-awareness of the power she possessed and the burden that came with it.

"You're safe now," Akane murmured, keeping her voice steady.

The asari nodded, relief flickering across her face. But before Akane could disable the containment field, a shout echoed from behind her. More Eclipse soldiers had entered, likely alerted to her presence. Akane moved to intercept, her movements precise but restrained, each strike aimed to disarm rather than kill so not to scare the girl. The soldiers fell quickly, but the sound had already reverberated through the building, drawing more attention.

Just then, the Justicar entered, her expression unreadable as she took in the scene: Akane standing over the fallen soldiers and the imprisoned Ardat-Yakshi. In an instant, the Justicar assessed the situation, then nodded with a tacit understanding. Without a word, she joined Akane, covering her as she disabled the containment field.

With the field down, the young Ardat-Yakshi stood, and Akane could see a mixture of fear and hope in her eyes. "I just want… I want it to end. I didn't choose this," she whispered, her voice trembling.

The Justicar stepped forward, her voice calm yet unyielding, "Your journey does not end here, but you must be taken to a place of safety. The monastery will protect you—and others."

Eclipse forces continued to close in, and the two warriors—human and Justicar—moved in incredibly fast, defending the young asari. Eclipse proved relentless, their forces formidable, yet the combined expertise of Akane and the Justicar held them back. Every strike Akane delivered was met with another from the Justicar, their movements intertwining seamlessly as they fought side by side. Slowly, they carved a path out of the warehouse, and with the young asari between them, they reached the streets of Niacal, slipping back into the shadowed alleyways.

After securing a safe exit route, the Justicar turned to Akane, her piercing gaze softened. "You acted with honor, and in doing so, saved more than one life tonight," she said, inclining her head slightly in acknowledgment. "As is my Code, I owe you a debt."

Akane, watching the young asari being led away to safety, paused, then nodded thoughtfully, "Then, perhaps you can teach me. Teach me the ways of the Asari, the ways of the Justicar."

The Justicar's expression shifted, respect glinting in her eyes. "There is much one could learn from the Code, even if not sworn to it."

With Niacal's neon-lit chaos at their backs, they departed together—one bound by honor, the other by a need for understanding, both drawn toward a purpose that extended beyond the laws of any one world.

It was then that a most peculiar apprenticeship began through which Akane had not only found a interesting mentor, but caught a glimpses of a third primal energy: natural energy.

A source of energy that didn't come from within, but from outside. Which made it all the more fickle to master because while she felt her primal energies slowly aligning in perfect harmony, there was a sense of danger hidden behind all that hidden power. It was an eerie feeling of something bubbling under the surface of her skin, waiting for her to tempt the borders of her chakra reserves; to take a little more into than was necessary.

Thankfully, her mentor had done a great job guiding her when she expressed her worries. Biotics resembled chakra in that sense very much. There was no question why the strongest biotics were Asari. If she had a thousand years to train her chakra in the way Asari biotics do, who knew what heights of mastery she could achieve.

Alas, she was only a girl of seventeen years, one year short of adulthood. Comparable to Lyrena's almost 900 years, she might as well have been a toddler.

---

Shepard POV

Mordin was quite possibly the most fascinating salarian she'd ever met. A brilliant scientist, former Special Tasks Group operative, and skilled medic, he's the embodiment of contradictions—a fast-talking salarian with a razor-sharp mind and a surprising capacity for reflection. His scientific expertise proved to be an invaluable asset against the Collectors, so it came to the surprise of no one when the Jane agreed to a personal request.

The Normandy touched down on Tuchanka with a low rumble, the weight of the harsh terrain immediately apparent as the shuttle doors hissed open. The air was thick, heavy with the smell of dust and burned earth. The landscape ahead was nothing like the verdant planets Shepard had visited in the past—this was a place of hard survival and harsh realities, where only the strongest made it.

They stood now on Clan Urdnot territory, though Shepard had no way of knowing exactly what she was walking into. She had expected trouble, of course, but she hadn't anticipated stepping directly into the heart of a krogan warlord's domain.

Shepard's boots crunched against the rocky ground as she moved forward, flanked by Mordin and Tali. The camp sprawled out before them, a tangle of makeshift shelters and barricades, all crafted from debris salvaged from decades of krogan conflict.

The place was alive with the sound of krogan warriors moving with purpose—patrolling, shouting orders, and talking in guttural tones. It felt raw, as though the very ground was steeped in the violence that had made Clan Urdnot one of the most powerful clans on Tuchanka.

"Stay alert," Shepard murmured to Mordin and Tali. She had no idea where this visit would lead them, but she knew it would be unpredictable.

Their approach wasn't unnoticed. A few of the krogan warriors eyed them warily as they passed, but none made any move to challenge them. It wasn't until they reached a large open space near what appeared to be a makeshift war council that Shepard saw him.

Wrex.

The massive krogan was sitting on a pile of scrap metal—his impromptu 'throne', no doubt. His presence commanded immediate attention, his every movement an act of authority. Shepard watched as he conversed with a smaller krogan, Gatatog Uvenk, who seemed to be arguing his case with all the bravado of someone who didn't know when to quit. Shepard couldn't hear the specifics of their conversation, but the body language was clear—Uvenk was trying to assert his relevance, and Wrex was doing his best to ignore him.

Shepard exchanged a glance with Tali. Wrex had been a former ally, a mercenary, but she hadn't realized the extent of his rise in power. She knew he was formidable, but this? This was something new.

As they moved closer, the small krogan's voice raised slightly, his argument growing more desperate. "Wrex, you must see reason! We can't just—"

Without missing a beat, Wrex stood and shoved Uvenk aside with a single, dismissive motion, practically knocking him out of his path. Uvenk stumbled, but didn't dare challenge him again.

"Out of my way," Wrex grumbled, turning quickly as he spotted Shepard and the others. His face broke into a grin at the sight of her, all business melted away in an instant. "Shepard, my friend." he rumbled warmly, striding toward them. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Shepard couldn't help but smile at the sight of him. Despite the power and authority he commanded here, Wrex had a familiar warmth to him, a kind of gruff affection that only he could pull off. Shepard would go as far as to say she missed this hulk of a krogan. She would have to bring Grunt to him next time they meet.

"You look well for dead, Shepard. Should have known the void couldn't hold you."

"Good to see you, Wrex," Shepard said, moving forward to meet him. "I didn't expect this—this!" She gestured broadly at the camp. "Last time I saw you, we were both in a bit of a different situation. What happened?"

Wrex chuckled, his voice a low rumble. "Yeah, that's a long story. Let's just say someone had to take charge around here. Clan Urdnot needed leadership if we were going to survive. And I'm not one to let someone else screw it up." He eyed the surrounding krogan warriors, all of whom deferred to him with cautious respect.

"Seems like you've done more than just survive," Shepard replied, her voice low. "You've got a whole clan behind you now."

Wrex waved a hand dismissively. "Clan's still messy, but it's moving in the right direction. Uvenk's just a symptom of the old problems around here. Can't trust someone like him to lead a clan." He glanced over his shoulder, where Uvenk was already muttering to himself but wisely staying away.

He turned to Tali, "You still practicing with that shotgun? Still remember the fast reloading trick I showed you?"

The quarian chuckled good-heartedly, "Yes, Wrex, I've learnt to take care of myself over the last couple of years."

He grinned again with a proud gleam in his eyes, "They grow up so fast."

Shepard raised an eyebrow at him, "I take it you've had some challenges."

Wrex just gave her a pointed look. "You could say that. But that's not why you're here, is it?"

"No," Shepard replied, her expression sobering. "We need your help with something. There's a salarian scientist—one of Mordin's colleagues. We think he might be on Tuchanka, and we need to track him down."

"I see, my scout commander can direct you. He's probably near the perimeter running target practice. Don't take too much of his time. I need a constant watch on the other clans."

"Thanks, Wrex, as much as I would have loved for you to accompany me, we'll continue this another time."

"I would come, weren't I needed her. Watch yourself, Shepard. Tuchanka isn't safe and homey like Feros and Ilos.

After getting directions from her krogan bestie, Commander Jane Shepard moved cautiously through the blasted streets of Tuchanka, the stench of scorched earth and burning rubble pressing thickly on the air. Beside her, Mordin walked with his usual brisk efficiency, eyes scanning each krogan enclave with a carefully neutral expression. But Shepard could sense the tension in him, a strain she'd rarely seen even in the chaos of battle. This wasn't just another mission for him—this was a reckoning with his own past.

Shepard's other squadmate, Tali, was quieter than usual, her expression hidden behind the violet shimmer of her visor. But Shepard knew Tali well enough to sense the shift in her body language, the stiffness in her posture. Tali had chosen to accompany them here, despite the personal toll this place and its history would likely take on her. Shepard had a feeling Tali's experience with her own people's struggles would bring out something raw in her responses to Mordin's work on the genophage.

As they moved deeper into the settlement, hearing stories of krogan survival and struggle, Shepard found herself walking a few paces behind the two, watching how Tali and Mordin interacted. Tali, whose heart had always gone out to the marginalized, seemed to be working hard to reconcile Mordin's previous role in modifying the genophage with the compassionate doctor she now knew him to be.

Eventually, they reached the makeshift clinic where Maelon, Mordin's former student, had left behind the grisly evidence of his twisted research. The harsh blue light flickered over rows of test samples, their labels marked with an unsettling mix of krogan genetic data, each vial representing a life altered by the genophage.

Tali's gaze was fixed on the table, and her voice shook slightly as she spoke. "Mordin... I understand that your work was meant to prevent another Krogan Rebellion. But the genophage—it didn't just stop an uprising. It punished generations. It turned entire clans into..."

She trailed off, searching for words, and Mordin sighed, his shoulders slumping just slightly. "Necessary measure," he said quietly, more to himself than to either of them. "Population control only option. Better than alternative: outright genocide, obliteration of entire species. Genophage—imperfect, painful, yes. But least destructive solution available."

Shepard stayed silent, letting Tali's gentler approach unfold. She sensed that Tali's empathy, more than her own blunt questioning, might reach Mordin. And Tali didn't disappoint.

"I don't believe you were heartless, Mordin," Tali replied, her voice quiet but unwavering. "But did you ever think about what it would do to them—not just as a species, but as individuals? Children they might never have, families that would be broken before they even began?"

Shepard saw Mordin pause, his gaze dropping to the table, fingers resting on one of the specimen jars. For the first time, the sterile clinic felt less like a place of research and more like a tomb—a monument to lives that never had the chance to be.

"Yes," Mordin murmured, a flicker of regret slipping into his usually clinical tone. "Thought about it often. Knew consequences. Krogan suffering was... unintended but inevitable." He glanced up, meeting Tali's gaze, the turmoil clear in his eyes. "My calculations accounted for numbers, not feelings. Didn't consider… the individual suffering each life lost would mean."

Shepard watched the exchange, feeling the air thick with unspoken emotions. She saw the way Tali's expression softened, a mixture of sadness and understanding in her eyes as she looked at Mordin. Tali understood the weight of survival—she had seen it in her own people, how each new generation of quarians was born with the same hope and the same burden.

"Sometimes survival costs more than we expect," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But there's a point where survival at all costs… it's too high."

They moved on, pressing further into Maelon's lab, seeing the horrors of his experiments firsthand. Shepard saw Tali flinch at one of the more graphic data logs—a cruel experiment that stretched even the darkest definitions of science. Mordin's face tightened, and Shepard noticed his jaw set as he reviewed Maelon's work, grappling with the knowledge that his own contributions to the genophage had, in some ways, set this horror in motion.

As they reached the end of Maelon's lab, Shepard felt her own anger swell at the sight of Maelon's final experiment. He had crossed lines Mordin had never intended. She turned to Mordin, who stood there with a haunted look in his eyes.

Tali placed a gloved hand on his shoulder, her touch gentle but grounding. "Mordin, I know you thought you were doing the right thing. But maybe this is the time to consider another way. A way that… respects them, as individuals, the way you do now."

Mordin met her gaze, searching her expression as if he was trying to find an answer there. "You believe they could live peacefully, even after all this?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

Tali nodded slowly. "If we don't give them the chance, we'll never know. The krogan deserve a future like anyone else. And maybe the solution this time is trust, not control."

Shepard could see something shift in Mordin's posture. He turned back to the lab, looking at Maelon's research one last time before gathering it up and deleting the files. He took a deep breath, his resolve set.

"Thank you," he said, voice low but sincere. He turned to Tali, a rare hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "Forgotten, perhaps, how much a life is worth, not just in terms of numbers, but in terms of hope."

As they prepared to leave, Maelon, the man whose twisted experiments had caused so much pain, stood before them. Tali's soft but steady gaze met Mordin's, and the weight of the decision settled between them. Shepard had felt it too—the choice to end Maelon's life, to let him pay for his atrocities, or to show mercy.

"Mordin," Shepard said, her voice firm but understanding, "this man crossed every line. But he's still alive. There's still a chance to show something different—something better. We can leave him alive and let him learn from the destruction he's caused. The data will be safe, but Maelon… he deserves a chance at redemption too."

Mordin's eyes flickered to Maelon, then back to Shepard and Tali. The choice was heavy, but for the first time in this lab, the salarian's decision wasn't driven by numbers or scientific calculation. He nodded slowly.

"Yes," Mordin said, voice laced with quiet resolve. "Not all deserve death. Not all are beyond saving."

With Maelon spared and the data saved, Shepard felt a sense of profound change in Mordin. He had always been a brilliant scientist, but now he was becoming something more: someone who valued lives as more than just data points.

Back on the Normandy, Shepard noticed Mordin seemed lighter somehow, as if he'd finally put down a burden he'd carried for too long. Tali, meanwhile, looked exhausted but relieved, her quiet empathy having made a greater impact than she might ever realize.

Shepard's team was filled with fighters, each in their own way, but Tali's kindness was something rare. It was a strength as powerful as any weapon, and Shepard knew it was just as necessary to their fight.

---

Akane POV

"Aratoht!"

The kunoichi exclaimed loudly, having finally discovered a valuable lead; a place with a name. Posk, startled, whipped around so quickly that he hit his knee on the console.

"Ah, sorry, bud."

"I hope you have a good reason for giving me a heart-attack," he patted his bruised leg, "and have me busting up me knee!"

A corner on the woman's lips shifted upwards, her amusement palpable. Posk chuckled to himself, "Why do I always only get a reaction from you whenever I suffer harm? Really shows your character, you little sadist!"

She rolled her onyx eyes, exasperated at his weak insult but willing to indulge, "In case you failed to notice, I am almost as tall as you."

The batarian scoffed, "Whatever helps you sleep at night. I still got a few inches on you, kid."

That provoked a grumble out of her, "I knew I shouldn't have told you my age."

After a second of charged silence, they shared a laugh between them. It felt good after the near breakdown she had with Hilo.

"Can you find me more about Aratoht? I already set the course for the Bahak System, but I want details, names, places."

He turned around to his many consoles, lines of concentration and seriousness overtaking the lines of his face, "I will see what I can find. Meanwhile, why don't you go back to your room, boss? I work better without you breathing over my shoulder."

Her forehead folded with the raise of her missing eyebrows, they might as well have touched the ceiling with how high they rose, "Dear Posk, are you kicking me out? Is that your way of talking to your superior?"

"Certainly not of superior height."

Oh, now he's done it!

"Fuck you too, Posk."

That might have drawn the loudest laugh she had ever heard from him, "I knew I would get it out of you one day! Hilo owes me 2000 credits!"

---

Shepard POV

Grunt's introduction to Shepard and the Normandy crew was as unforgettable as the tank-bred krogan himself. Emerging from his stasis pod like a force of nature, Grunt was a living weapon designed to embody the strength and resilience of his kind. At first glance, he was everything Shepard expected from a krogan—aggressive, headstrong, and fiercely proud of his power. But there was something different about Grunt, something that set him apart from the warlords and mercenaries Shepard had encountered before.

He wasn't burdened by the scars of Tuchanka or the weight of centuries-old traditions. Instead, Grunt approached the galaxy with a unique clarity, shaped not by experience but by the purpose he'd been created for. Shepard saw in him a raw potential, untamed but undeniably compelling.

Even if they started their relationship at gun point. Grunt's questions about honor, strength, and what it truly meant to be krogan revealed a surprisingly thoughtful side beneath his warrior exterior. Despite his initial outbursts and instinct to challenge authority, Shepard recognized that Grunt wasn't just looking for a leader—he was searching for a purpose.

By the time Grunt approached her, restless and uncharacteristically agitated, Shepard had come to see him as more than just a tank-bred krogan. He was a member of her crew, and maybe, in some ways, even a surrogate son in need of guidance. As they prepared to journey to Tuchanka for answers, Shepard found herself reflecting on how far they'd come—and just how important it was to help Grunt find his place in the galaxy.

Commander Shepard leaned back in her seat as the Normandy descended onto Tuchanka's jagged, arid surface. The planet's violent winds stirred up clouds of red dust, battering the shuttle as it approached the Krogan stronghold. She glanced at Garrus, who sat across from her, his mandibles twitching in quiet contemplation.

Shepard's lips quirked into a smile at the thought of the krogan chieftain. Still not believing that he had made something of himself. Wrex had been a constant, if contentious, presence in the early days of their journey. She had doubted him at first, back when he was a gun-for-hire with a penchant for blood and chaos. But their shared battles had forged a bond as strong as the Krogan Battlemaster himself. Shepard had stood by him on Virmire, convinced him not to throw his life away in a rage over Saren's genophage experiments.

That decision had paved the way for what awaited her now—a reunion with her old friend, who was no longer just Wrex but Urdnot Wrex, leader of Clan Urdnot and a unifier of the krogan.

The shuttle touched down with a dull thud, and the doors slid open to the chaos of Tuchanka's sprawling camp. Fires crackled in steel barrels, krogan shouted and laughed in guttural tones, and the unmistakable tang of scorched metal filled the air.

Garrus shot her a look, his mandibles tilting in a wry smirk. "Feels almost welcoming, doesn't it?"

"Homey," Shepard agreed, stepping into the dusty, crowded camp.

It wasn't long before they spotted Wrex—his towering frame unmistakable, his red crested head gleaming in the sunlight. He was surrounded by other krogan, all of whom deferred to him with a respect Shepard wouldn't have believed possible years ago. When he turned and saw her, his face split into a toothy grin.

"Shepard!" Wrex's booming voice silenced the camp as he strode toward her, "I heard you made it out alive, wouldn't expect anything else." He clasped their forearms into a bone-crushing handshake that would have probably crushed her arm weren't it for the cybernetics, ignoring Garrus' bemused look and her own muffled protests. "It's good to see you."

"You too, Wrex," Shepard managed, patting his broad shoulder. "I promised we'd catch up, didn't I?"

Wrex chuckled, releasing her. "You kept your promise, Shepard. You always do."

His gaze shifted to Garrus, "And Vakarian. Still keeping her out of trouble?"

Garrus gave a low chuckle, "That's a full-time job."

"Then you're earning your keep." Wrex turned his attention to Grunt, who stood a step behind Shepard, his posture tense. "And what do we have here? My replacement, Shepard? Hmm... Where are you from, welp? Was your clan destroyed before you could learn what is expected of you?"

Grunt puffed out his chest, meeting Wrex's gaze unflinchingly. "I have no clan. I'm pure krogan. Tank-bred by Warlord Okeer. My strength comes from a thousand generations of warriors."

Wrex' blood red eyes narrowed as he leant closer to have a better look at Grunt, Shepard resisted the urge to take a protective step in his direction. The name hit like a hammer. Wrex's face darkened, a low growl rumbling from his throat. "Okeer? A very old name, a very hated name."

Grunt's eyes narrowed, but he held his ground. "I don't care where I came from. I'm here now. Okeer may have made me, but he's dead. I decide what I am."

Wrex stared him down for a moment that stretched into eternity. Shepard could feel the tension thrumming in the air like a taut wire. Then Wrex barked a harsh laugh, the sound rough and sharp. "Of course he is. You're with Shepard. How could he be alive? Good answer, kid. You're not pure krogan—none of us are. But if you want to prove you're worth, there's only one way. The Rite."

Grunt's chest rose and fell, his biotics flickering faintly as if to underscore his resolve, "Then I'll do it. I'll prove myself."

Shepard exhaled quietly, relieved that the situation hadn't escalated. But as Wrex's gaze flicked to her, she saw something else—a hint of curiosity, maybe even respect, "You've got guts bringing him here, Shepard. Uvenk would have busted a quad had he been pestering me today. Okeer's legacy or not, he'll either be krogan by the end of this… or he won't walk away."

"He's more than just Okeer's creation," Shepard said firmly, her protective edge clear. "He's Grunt. My crew. My family. And I believe in him."

Wrex studied her for a moment, his expression softening into something that almost resembled a grin, "Then you're already a better krogan mother than most. Let's see if the runt can prove you right."

The next step was meeting the Shaman who would oversee the Rite. Inside a darkened chamber filled with incense and the faint hum of ancient machinery, the Shaman loomed over them—a scarred, weathered krogan with piercing eyes. He studied Grunt intently, as if weighing the younger krogan's worth with a single glance.

"Tank-bred," the Shaman rumbled, his voice like grinding stone. "You carry no clan name, no bloodline. And yet you demand the Rite?"

Grunt stepped forward, unshaken. "I demand it because I am krogan. I have the strength, the skill. My lineage doesn't matter."

The Shaman turned his gaze to Shepard, scrutinizing her, "And you? An outsider speaks for this one?"

Shepard squared her shoulders, "Grunt is part of my crew. I don't abandon my people. If the Rite is what he needs, I'll see him through it."

The Shaman grunted approvingly but didn't reply. Instead, he began detailing the trial—waves of ravenous varren, packs of feral klixen, and finally, the thresher maw.

As the Shaman spoke, another krogan entered the room, his posture arrogant and his sneer directed at Grunt. Uvenk—he must have caught wind of this.

"This one has no place in our Rite," Uvenk growled, stepping into the circle. "Tank-bred filth born of a syringe. The Rite is for true krogan, not abominations."

Grunt snarled, but Shepard stepped forward, cutting him off with a raised hand. She fixed Uvenk with a glare that could have frozen a sun.

"Grunt has earned his place here," she said, her voice low and sharp. "You don't get to decide that."

Uvenk sneered, "What does a human know of our traditions? You're weak, unworthy to even set foot on Tuchanka."

Shepard took another step forward, closing the gap between them. Garrus shifted uneasily behind her, but she ignored him.

"You want to question my strength?" Shepard asked, her voice deadly calm. "Let's settle it the krogan way."

Before Uvenk could reply, Shepard headbutted him square in the crest. The impact echoed through the chamber, and Uvenk stumbled back, stunned. Shepard didn't flinch even though her head was thrumming underneath her helmet. Still, she remained tall as the krogan around her erupted into laughter and approving grunts.

"Guess that settles it," Garrus muttered, his tone dry but amused.

The Shaman chuckled, a rare sound from the stoic krogan. "You've got guts, human. Let's see if the tank-bred has the same."

With the Shaman's blessing, the trial began.

The Rite was brutal, even by krogan standards, but Shepard knew it was what Grunt needed. And if she was being honest, she trusted him to survive. Grunt had proven himself time and time again, and there was no one she'd rather have by her side in a fight. As his Commander, as his Battlemaster.

The arena where the Rite would take place was a scarred wasteland of jagged rocks and rusted metal, the perfect battleground for testing a krogan's mettle. Many creatures invited themselves to their arena, coming onto them in bout of ultimate survival.

The battle was chaos, a storm of snarling varren and klixen. Grunt fought with a ferocity that even Shepard hadn't seen before, his shotgun blasting through enemies like they were nothing. Garrus provided cover from the high ground, his sniper rifle picking off threats before they could get too close. And Shepard, her pistol flashing and her biotics crackling with energy, fought at Grunt's side, ensuring he was never overwhelmed by numbers.

Then the ground shook.

"Thresher maw," Garrus muttered, shaking his head. "Of course it's a thresher maw."

Shepard smirked, "Still not the strangest thing we've fought."

The thresher maw erupted from the earth, its massive, armored form towering over them. Shepard's instincts kicked in, and she barked out orders, coordinating their attack. Grunt was relentless, charging at the beast with a roar that echoed across the arena. Garrus' rifle cracked in the distance, his shots precise and unyielding. And Shepard, her biotic powers flaring, hurled waves of force at the creature, drawing its attention away from her team.

It felt like hours have passed when the thresher maw's massive body collapsed into the earth with a deafening crash, sending a cloud of dust and debris billowing into the air. Silence followed, broken only by the sound of Shepard, Garrus, and Grunt catching their breath. Grunt stood at the center of the battlefield, his chest heaving with exertion, his expression a mix of exhaustion and pride.

Before any of them could fully recover, a group of krogan emerged from the shadows, led by a scarred figure whose swagger radiated disdain. Uvenk. His sneer deepened as his gaze landed on Grunt. What was this fucker doing here?!

"Impressive," Uvenk drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "For a tank-bred. But you don't belong here. You're not one of us."

Grunt growled, stepping forward, but Shepard placed a firm hand on his shoulder. Let mama handle this.

"Not yet," she murmured, her tone low and steady.

Uvenk turned his scornful eyes to her, "And you—Shepard. You really think this… experiment of Okeer's deserves to stand among true krogan warriors?"

Shepard steadily came closer, her shoulders squared and her voice calm but edged with steel, "Grunt just killed a thresher maw. He completed the Rite of Passage. That makes him as much krogan as any of you—if not more."

Uvenk sneered, meeting her in the middle, "You don't understand anything, human. The Rite isn't just about strength. It's about tradition, bloodlines, and proving you're worthy. This thing was made in a lab, not born of struggle. He's a mockery of everything we stand for."

Grunt snarled, biotic energy beginning to hum faintly around him. "Say that again," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Before things could escalate further, Shepard stepped directly into Uvenk's path, her biotic aura flickering to life as she glared at him, "If you're questioning Grunt's place here, then you're questioning the Rite itself. Or are you just looking for an excuse to pick a fight you can't win?"

The tension in the air was palpable. Uvenk's sneer faltered for a moment, but he rallied quickly, leaning forward straight into her face with a derisive laugh, "You think you're krogan enough to talk to me like that, human?"

Shepard smirked, and without warning, swung backwards and slammed her forehead into Uvenk's with a resounding crack. The force of the headbutt sent him stumbling backward, stunned, while she stood firm, barely flinching. Take that you insufferable cunt! Nobody talks to about her son like that!

"Was that krogan enough for you?" she said, her tone casual but laced with warning.

Uvenk glared at her, his hand rubbing his forehead as his composure cracked. Then, as Shepard turned her back to him, he roared in fury, pulling a pistol from his belt and firing.

The shot struck Shepard in the back, bouncing harmlessly off her kinetic shield and biotic barrier, but it stopped her in her tracks. She turned her head slightly, her gaze dark and cutting, "Really?"

But Grunt didn't give her a chance to retaliate. His roar was primal, shaking the very air around them, "You dare attack my Battlemaster?" he bellowed, charging Uvenk like a force of nature.

Uvenk barely managed to aim his pistol again before Grunt was upon him, the shotgun in Grunt's hands firing point-blank into his chest. Uvenk staggered but didn't fall immediately, his eyes wide with shock as Grunt grabbed him by the throat and slammed him into the ground with enough force to crack the dirt beneath them.

"You're nothing," Grunt growled, his voice heavy with rage. "You don't deserve the Rite, the clans, or the honor of being krogan."

With one final strike, Grunt ended Uvenk's life, his fist smashing into the would-be challenger's face with a sickening crunch. Would that make Shepard a bad person if she thought he totally deserved that?

The krogan who had followed Uvenk scattered, their bravery evaporating in the face of Grunt's wrath.

Shepard walked up to Grunt, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. "That was… decisive," she said, her voice firm but understanding.

Grunt turned to her, his expression softening as he glanced at her, "No one hurts my Battlemaster," he said, his voice fierce but tinged with a protectiveness that was impossible to miss.

Garrus chuckled, slinging his sniper rifle over his shoulder. "Remind me never to get on your bad side, Grunt."

The Shaman approached them, his face unreadable. Finally, he nodded, "Grunt has proven himself in every way. He is krogan, and none will dare question that now. Shepard, your leadership and strength have also earned respect here today."

Shepard met the Shaman's gaze, giving a short nod, "Grunt earned this. I'm just here to back him up."

As they headed back to the shuttle, Shepard glanced at Grunt. "You know, you've got this protective thing down. If I didn't know better, I'd say you're turning into a proper krogan son."

Grunt grunted, his version of a laugh. "You act like a krogan mother. But I'm not calling you that."

Shepard smirked. "Fair enough. Let's get back to the Normandy. You've earned a drink—or ten."

As the shuttle lifted off, leaving the battlefield and Tuchanka behind, Shepard felt a rare sense of satisfaction. Grunt had found his place, Garrus was by her side, and for one fleeting moment, the galaxy's weight felt just a little lighter.

---

A/N: Hello, so, first of all, this story is not on hiatus. I've just been too busy these past few months. I graduated from university, got a scholarship for another Uni and decided to switch countries and continents. It feels almost weird how I was crying to you about not getting into Uni a few years ago and now— boom! —I finished my degree and attend another University overseas. Life's just so unpredictable it's almost beautiful. Anyways, I've not forgotten my promise and deliver another chapter to the story, hope it impresses!