Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Akame Ga Kill or Star Wars

A/N: Hi, this is my first time writing a fanfiction. I always enjoyed reading fanfiction and was inspired to write my own.

This story may be kind of strange but it gradually will make sense later.

I hope you enjoy reading.

Esdeath's grin stretched wide, predatory, as Cursed Mode Akame came charging straight at her.

A fool's mistake.

Esdeath lifted her hand, her voice like ice.

"Mahapadma."

Time froze.

The battlefield went still, silent, locked in an instant of absolute control. Esdeath's smirk widened as a blade of frost took form in her grip, sharp enough to end this fight for good.

She swung.

But—nothing.

Her sword phased through Akame.

Confusion flickered in Esdeath's eyes.

A trick. An afterimage.

She spun, scanning the frozen world, searching for the real Akame—

Too late.

"ELIMINATE"

The voice came from above.

Esdeath barely had time to look up before the blade struck, carving a deep, merciless slash across her torso.

Her body buckled. Shock rippled through her—this was real.

She had lost.

For the first time in her life, Esdeath felt it. Defeat.

"It seems you've won, Ms. Red-Eyed Assassin," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her pride had cost her. And now, it was over.

But even in death, she wouldn't kneel.

Blood seeped from her wound, staining the ice beneath her boots as she staggered forward. Her gaze drifted to Tatsumi, his body sprawled across the frozen stone floor.

A quiet chuckle left her lips.

"Maybe I'll love you again… somewhere else, Tatsumi."

With the last of her strength, she reached deep into herself, summoning the final remnants of her power. Frost climbed up her limbs, encasing her and Tatsumi in a cocoon of ice.

Akame's voice cut through the air. "Esdeath! Stop! Leave Tatsumi's body to rest!"

Esdeath didn't listen.

She only smiled.

And with a snap of her fingers—they were gone.

Not a trace remained. No corpses. No blood. No closure.

Akame stood frozen, staring at the empty space where Tatsumi had been.

And then—

The grief swallowed her whole.

She crumpled, her knees hitting the ground. Her body shook as sobs tore through her, raw and unrestrained.

Tatsumi was gone.

No farewell. No burial. Nothing.

Her vision blurred.

One by one, faces filled her mind.

Lubbock. Chelsea. Mine. Sheele. Kurome.

Her sister. The girl she had been forced to kill with her own hands.

The weight of it crushed her.

She had fought for a better future, for a revolution, for something more than the endless cycle of death.

But at what cost?

Her comrades were gone. Her enemies were gone.

And she—she was still here.

She clutched at her chest, at the unbearable emptiness inside her.

"I wish I could see you all one last time."

Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, lost in the wind.

But the gods did not answer.

They never had.

Oh, how she wished everything could have been reversed.

But this was the present. And no amount of regret, no desperate plea to the gods, could change the past.

Akame sat in silence, her fingers curling into the dirt beneath her. Her voice, small and broken, slipped into the night.

"I hope you're not having fun without me."

The words carried into the wind, unheard by anyone—anyone alive, at least.

Then the sobs came. Raw. Quiet. Endless.

She had lost too much. Too many people. Too many moments.

And she blamed herself.

She blamed the gods. The world. Fate.

From the moment she and Kurome had been sold to the Empire, their lives had been ripped from their hands. Children tossed away like scraps. They never had a choice. Never had a childhood.

At nine years old, Akame had already learned the truth—that the world was a cruel place, that justice was just a word, that the weak were meant to suffer.

She wished she and Kurome had never been forced into the Empire's survival trials. Never been turned into weapons. Never had to fight, to kill, to endure.

She wished she had never been part of Night Raid.

Because now—their voices haunted her.

Their screams. Their pleas. Their last breaths.

Every night, she heard them. Saw them. Felt their blood on her hands.

And she would for the rest of her life.

But she had to push forward. She had to.

For now, at least, she had one last thing to do—celebrate the victory of the revolution with the only comrade she had left.

Najenda.

"I'm glad we won, boss."

Her voice was thin, exhausted, but there was still relief in it. A small, fragile victory.

Najenda nodded. "I'm glad you made it, Akame. I'm glad I'm not alone."

Her lips curved slightly. "You and I have been together since the beginning, haven't we?"

Akame nodded. "I know. It was… long. Hard. But we did it. We ended the Empire's evil."

Then, hesitation.

"Now what happens?" Her voice was quieter now. "Since the Empire is saved… does this mean you're no longer my boss?"

Najenda sighed, the weight of leadership still heavy on her shoulders. "Unfortunately, yes. Our business is over. You're free now."

Free.

Akame had no idea what that even meant.

Still, she smiled, small and bittersweet. "It was a pleasure working for you, boss. Or should I say… Najenda?"

Najenda let out a rare chuckle. "Hah… You know, I always liked you, Akame. You're a fierce fighter. I know things are miserable right now, but trust me… you saved this world. And I know that everyone up there is proud of you."

Akame's gaze softened. "I just wish they were here to see it."

Silence.

Then, she straightened. "I'll probably look for another mission soon. And… I need to find a cure for myself. I used Murasame's Trump Card."

Najenda nodded, understanding. "Then go. And if you ever need help, send me a letter."

"I will."

Akame gave a final salute before turning away, stepping forward—alone.

The past was behind her. The battle was over.

But the war within her would never end.

Akame walked in silence, the wind carrying the scent of damp earth and old memories. The grave was just ahead, a simple stone marker nestled between withered trees, untouched by time but heavy with loss.

She knelt, fingers brushing against the cold stone, the name carved into it staring back at her.

"Hey, Kurome."

Her voice barely broke above a whisper.

She placed a bundle of Black Mamba petunias beside the grave—Kurome's favorite. Their dark petals swayed gently, almost as if reaching for her touch. Beside them, a small box of jelly-filled cookies, carefully wrapped.

"I brought you something. Just in case you get lonely."

Silence.

She sighed, shifting to sit beside the grave, knees pulled up to her chest.

"I wish you were here."

Her throat tightened.

"The revolution is over. We won. The Empire is gone. But it doesn't feel like a victory, Kurome. It just… doesn't."

She swallowed hard, trying to keep herself together.

"Everyone's gone."

She didn't list their names. She didn't need to. They lingered in the air, in the silence, in the weight pressing down on her chest.

"I should be happy, right? This is what we fought for. What Night Raid died for. But I… I don't know what to do with myself anymore."

A gust of wind blew past, rustling the petals of the flowers.

Akame closed her eyes.

"I have to leave for a while."

The words felt heavier than they should have.

"I used my Trump Card against Esdeath. The poison is still in me. If I don't find a cure, it'll kill me."

She exhaled slowly, blinking against the sting in her eyes.

"I don't know where to start. I don't know if there is a cure. But I have to try. If I die now, after everything… I think it would make me hate myself even more."

She reached out, fingers trailing across the edge of the gravestone.

"I love you, Kurome."

Her voice broke on the last word.

She pressed a hand to her chest, swallowing the sob that threatened to escape. Not here. Not now.

Instead, she wiped her eyes quickly and stood, one last look at the grave before turning away.

She wouldn't look back. She couldn't.

Because if she did, she wasn't sure she'd be able to leave.

With one last deep breath, she set off.

The cure wouldn't find itself.

She needed to move.

She needed a purpose.

Because if she stopped—if she let herself feel for too long—it would destroy her.

She threw herself into her next mission: finding a cure.

For months, she scoured every corner of the Empire.

Libraries. Apothecaries. Black markets. Nothing.

Temporary drugs existed—painful, unstable, and unreliable. Band-aids on a fatal wound.

Akame moved in silence, her fingers tracing along the cold stone walls of the underground stairwell. The Prime Minister's trap door had led her here—a spiraling descent into something hidden, something dark.

Her boots barely made a sound as she reached the bottom, where the air was thick with dust and secrets long buried. A vault of knowledge, locked away behind glass.

This is where they keep the things no one is meant to find.

Her eyes swept over the shelves. Dozens of books lined the cases, their covers worn, their titles laced with malice.

She didn't hesitate.

With a single, precise strike, she shattered the lock. Glass rained onto the floor like fallen stars.

Her hands moved quickly, grabbing every book in sight, devouring the words like a starving beast.

She skimmed through their pages, bile rising in her throat as she read their names:

"How to Manipulate a Child Under the Royal Throne."
"Implementing Unfair Tax Policies 101."
"100 Ways to Publicly Execute People."
"Slavery: Pros and Cons."

The stench of the Empire's cruelty bled from every page.

Disgusting.

She kept going.

Then—she found it.

"Secrets of Imperial Arms No One Knows."

Her fingers tightened around the book's spine.

She turned the pages, scanning, absorbing, dissecting every fragment of knowledge it had to offer.

Demon's Extract:

A rare, forbidden power. Esdeath had consumed one—but there was still another out there.

Her grip on the book tightened. If she could find it—if she could drink it— she could gain power unlike anything she had ever wielded before.

She read further.

Thunder God's Rage: Adramelech

A stronger version. A more devastating weapon.

Her heart pounded. More pieces. More possibilities.

Cross Tail:

A weapon she had always admired.

But this—this was something new.

It was called Arachne's Offering

Not forged from steel, but woven from something far more terrifying.

Spider silk.

The text detailed a ritual—the user would have to drink the extract to bond with the material, allowing them to summon indestructible threads from their body.

No force could break them. Not even an elephant's weight.

Her mind spun with possibilities.

Puppetry. Assassination. Lethal webs laced with poison.

She could do it. Would do it.

But not now.

She forced herself to focus.

She flipped further until she reached what she had been searching for all along—

Murasame:

Jinwa Island the birthplace of the cursed blade. The only place that might hold the cure she needed.

This was it.

She slammed the book shut.

No more wasting time.

She tucked it into her backpack, alongside another—"1000 Rare Sword Katas and Techniques."

She would study it later. Master it. Refine her skills. Become stronger.

Akame took a step toward the stairwell—then stopped.

A chill ran down her spine.

Something was wrong.

Her eyes drifted to the right. A wall—perfectly seamless, as if it were meant to be ignored. But she had caught something—a glimpse of book titles, lined up too perfectly.

All identical.

She approached, heart beating slow and steady, fingers reaching out. She tugged a random book.

Click.

The wall shifted.

A hidden room—revealed.

Inside, two doors stood before her. One felt ominous, suffocating. The other—it sent ice crawling through her veins.

She didn't hesitate.

She chose the cold.

Her palm settled against the handle, her skin already prickling with frost. Sweat gathered at her fingertips.

She turned the knob.

The door creaked open.

A gust of pure, unnatural cold blasted her face.

She shivered violently.

Then, she saw it.

A vial resting on a pedestal, frost creeping along its glass surface.

The label read:

"The Ice Age."

Akame stepped forward, her breath visible in the frigid air. She reached out, her fingers wrapping around the vial. The cold bit into her skin.

She uncorked it. Hesitated.

Then—she drank.

It was vile.

A disgusting fusion of rotting durian and kusaya, thick and acidic as it burned down her throat. She gagged, body rejecting it instantly.

For a moment, she felt nothing.

Then—

Agony.

Her stomach twisted into knots, her intestines felt like they were being torn apart.

She collapsed.

Her body convulsed violently, curling into itself. Cold flooded her veins, a merciless, unnatural freeze overtaking her from the inside out.

It was worse than Murasame's curse.

Her heartbeat hammered against her ribs. Her vision blurred. Black spots swallowed her sight.

She gasped—once.

Then, darkness.

When her eyes snapped open, she thought she was dead.

She wasn't.

She sat up fast, lungs dragging in a breath so sharp it burned.

Her fingers pressed against the ground, against ice-cold stone.

She staggered to her feet, turning toward a cracked mirror against the wall.

What she saw stopped her heart.

Her skin—white as fresh snow. A strange, dark marking stretched across her chest.

Her hair—mostly the same, but streaked with white.

She touched her palm.

Cold.

Colder than it should have been.

A reminder of what she had become.

Her fingers twitched. She focused—and a single snowflake drifted from her fingertips.

Pathetic. Weak. Useless.

She cursed herself. Of course, she had to train it first.

There was no shortcut to mastery.

She clenched her fists. Fine.

She turned, stepping back toward the hall.

One more door.

This door was different.

It oozed malice. Something inside wanted to be found.

Akame pushed forward.

The moment she entered, she felt it.

Pressure.

Not like the cold before. This was suffocating.

In the center of the room, on a pedestal, sat a chalice.

Inside—a violet-purple liquid, thick and unnatural.

The label:

"Arachne's Offering."

Her pulse slowed.

This must be the prototype for Cross Tail.

She didn't think twice.

She lifted the chalice.

And she drank.

It was bitter, strange—metallic, yet slightly sweet.

Not as disgusting as the last one.

But the pain—

The pain came faster.

Her lungs ignited, as if she had breathed in pure sulfur.

The veins in her throat darkened, turning an unnatural shade of amethyst.

Her nerves burned—a sharp, relentless sting, like she was being stung by a thousand wasps at once.

She choked, gasping.

And then—

Silence.

The pain faded, as quickly as it came.

She dragged in a breath, hands pressed against her chest. Everything felt… different.

Her vision sharpened.

Her hearing expanded.

She could see everything. 360 degrees.

She could hear the ants crawling on the ground. The soft whisper of air moving through the cracks in the walls.

Then—

A flick of her wrist.

And a web shot out.

It barely stretched a few inches before dissolving. She had no control over it.

She gritted her teeth. Another ability she would have to master.

She pushed herself up, forcing stability back into her limbs.

One last room.

She stepped inside.

Her eyes landed on it immediately.

A glass case. Inside—a pair of gauntlets.

Stronger. More refined.

The enhanced version of Adramelech.

She didn't hesitate.

She shattered the case, took the gauntlets, and shoved them into her pack.

She had everything she needed.

For now.

Because finding the cure was more important than collecting new power.

She turned away, stepping out of the hidden chamber, leaving behind everything except what she had claimed.

The next step was clear.

She had to survive long enough to finish this.

The scent of salt hit her first.

The ocean stretched before her, endless and blue, waves glistening under the sun's warmth. The wind was calm, carrying the sharp tang of sea spray as it rolled over her skin.

Akame inhaled deeply. Tasted the salt on her tongue.

The horizon was clear—too clear.

No clouds. No storms. Just the illusion of peace.

But she knew better.

The sea was never truly calm. It waited. It watched. It could change its mind at any moment, and when it did—it was merciless.

Still, she needed a boat.

She found one—a small, sturdy vessel, barely worth the coin she didn't have. But she managed. She always did.

The waters were smooth at first, carrying her forward, her destination in sight.

Then—the world shifted.

The sky darkened.

A single, creeping shadow overtook the sun, smothering the warmth she had felt only moments before.

Then came the clouds—thick, heavy, unnatural.

The wind shifted violently, no longer a gentle breeze but a howling, screaming force. The waves twisted and churned, dragging her ship deeper into the storm's grip.

She tightened her hold on the ropes.

Then came the thunder.

A deep, guttural roar, echoed across the sea like the growl of some unseen beast.

Then—lightning.

It split the sky in half, streaking down with a vengeance, striking the water as a god's fury unleashed.

And then she saw them—

Waterspouts.

Spiraling towers of the ocean, forming in all directions.

Her stomach twisted.

Not from fear—she never feared. But this… this was something else.

This wasn't just a storm.

It was a reckoning.

The sea was swallowing her whole.

A wave slammed into the side of the boat, knocking her off balance. She barely caught herself before another came crashing down, flooding the deck, and knocking loose the sail.

Then—

CRACK.

The mast split apart, lightning carving through it like a blade through flesh.

The ship tilted violently.

She clung to the railing as water rushed in, filling the boat, dragging it down.

The wind screamed. The thunder boomed.

And for the first time in a long, long time—

She felt helpless.

Is this how it ends?

Her fingers curled into fists.

Is this divine punishment?

Did the gods hear her hatred? Did they laugh at her defiance, at her refusal to break?

Was this their answer?

A capsized ship and her body left for the sharks to feast on.

She exhaled, slow.

"At least I'll see Tatsumi and the others again."

Then—

CRACK.

A final bolt of lightning tore through the heavens.

She looked up.

Felt the energy in the air.

Felt death waiting for her.

She closed her eyes slowly waiting for the inevitable.

And then—

She vanished.

Authors Notes: don't worry she's fine. Also for those of you who already this chapter I added some drastic changes to this chapter. If you want me to change back to the old version let me know in the comments.

Hi readers, you can comment tips if you want or suggestions for the story.

Im all ears to constructive criticism, but nothing too hateful. Hope you enjoyed the first chapter!