SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 1 || 7. Counting Stars in Empty Skies

The dim light inside flickered, casting long shadows across the tiled walls. The smell of bleach stung her nose, sharp and sterile, but it was better than the suffocating scent that clung to her skin—smoke, sweat, alcohol.

Akame stood in front of the cracked mirror, her reflection staring back at her, unrecognizable. Her hair was tangled, her skin pale, her eyes hollow and empty. She looked broken. She was broken.

Her hands trembled as they reached for the edge of Umemiya's coat. She peeled it off slowly, draping it over the sink. The heavy fabric slipped from her shoulders, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable once again. Her fingers found the faucet, twisting it on. Cold water rushed out, splashing against the porcelain, filling the small room with its steady rhythm.

She grabbed the rough bar of soap and began scrubbing her hands, her arms, her legs—anywhere she could still feel him. The blood on her thigh smeared under the water, dark streaks swirling down the drain, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, the feeling wouldn't go away. It clung to her skin like a stain, like something she could never wash off.

Her breath hitched as she scrubbed harder, her movements frantic. The cold numbness was cracking, the emotions she had locked away beginning to claw their way to the surface. But she couldn't fall apart. Not yet. Not here.

Her fingers dug into her skin, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. She needed to feel clean. She needed to erase the memory of his hands, of his breath on her skin. But no matter how much she scrubbed, it wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

With a shaky breath, she turned off the water, her hands trembling as she wiped them on the towel. She stared at her reflection again, her eyes hollow, her expression cold. She needed to keep it together. She needed to stay strong. For Yuta. For herself.

Slowly, she pulled Umemiya's coat back over her shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her as if it could somehow shield her from everything outside. She wasn't ready to face the boys again. She wasn't ready to face the world.

But she would. She had to.

Akame stood there for a moment longer, gathering the shattered pieces of herself, before turning and heading toward the door. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep herself together. But she had to try.


~ The Ori Courtyard ~

The door clicked shut behind Akame, leaving an unbearable silence in its wake. Umemiya stood frozen, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he stared at the closed door. His trench coat, now hanging loosely off her small frame, had felt like a protective barrier when he'd placed it on her, but now it felt heavy—like it carried all of the unspoken fear she was trying so hard to hide.

Did I do enough?

The thought gnawed at him, self-doubt creeping in. He was the leader, but this was a situation far beyond any fight he'd been in. He didn't know her story, didn't know the depth of the pain she carried, but he had seen enough to understand that this wasn't something he could fix with a punch or a plan.

Behind him, the boys stood in an uneasy cluster, each of them caught in their own thoughts. They were used to battle scars, to bruises and bloodied lips, but the sight of Akame—her torn uniform, the blood streaking down her leg—was a different kind of violence, one they couldn't fight. It left them helpless.

Suo felt the knot in his stomach tighten. He had seen the aftermath of plenty of street fights, but this? This was a kind of horror he didn't know how to handle. The raw fear in her eyes, the sight of her trembling in the street—it was too much. This isn't a fight we're equipped for, he thought bitterly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Hiragi's arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his jaw clenched in frustration. He didn't know what to do with the anger simmering inside him. It wasn't the kind of rage he could let out in a brawl. This was different. It was more helpless, more hollow, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth. What the hell happened to her? The question burned in his mind, but he knew better than to ask.

Sakura stood silent. His mismatched eyes were fixed on the ground, his fists flexing and unflexing at his sides. He wasn't good at dealing with emotions like this. But this situation had no easy fix, and that left him feeling powerless. What do we even do now?

The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating.

Umemiya's mind was a whirlwind of frustration and doubt. He was the leader—he was supposed to know what to do, but standing there, outside that restroom door, he felt lost. What does she need? He wasn't sure anymore. He had given her his coat, his space, but that didn't feel like enough.

He cleared his throat softly, breaking the heavy silence. "Sakura," he said, his voice quieter than usual, though still carrying the weight of authority, "get the first aid kit."

Sakura blinked, as if snapped out of a trance. He nodded quickly, grateful for something to do, something to give him purpose in this uncomfortable moment. He turned and jogged toward their stash of supplies, retrieving the first aid kit they had used earlier during the brawls.

The others didn't move. Their minds swirled with unspoken thoughts, each one grappling with the same question: What now?

Sakura returned with the kit, handing it to Umemiya. His jaw was still tight, his movements tense as he avoided looking at the closed restroom door. "Here," he muttered, stepping back as Umemiya took it.

Umemiya nodded in thanks but didn't open it. He could hear the faint sound of running water from behind the door, and he knew Akame was trying to scrub away what had happened to her. But no amount of water could wash away the memory. He sighed softly, tightening his grip on the first aid kit.

"She needs space," he said finally, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable edge. "Go to Café Pathos. I'll meet you there later."

The boys exchanged uneasy glances. They had just come out of a fight together, their bodies aching, but it felt wrong to leave her here, alone with Umemiya, without knowing what to do. But they trusted his judgment. He was the leader for a reason.

Suo gave a brief nod, his eyes lingering on the door for a moment longer before he turned to leave. The image of Akame—broken, trembling—stayed with him, a sharp contrast to the rough-and-tumble street fights they usually got into. He glanced at the others, signaling silently for them to follow.

Hiragi exhaled through his nose, the frustration still gnawing at him. He hated feeling like there was nothing he could do, but he wasn't going to argue. "Alright," he muttered, his voice low and tense as he turned to go. His fists remained clenched as he walked away, the unease sitting heavily in his chest.

Nirei and Sugishita lingered a bit longer, their eyes flicking between Umemiya and the closed door. Mind racing with questions. What happened to her? How do we help her? 

Sakura was the last to leave, his fists still flexing at his sides as he cast one final glance at the restroom door. He didn't like leaving. He hated it. He wanted to do something, but there was nothing for him to punch, nothing for him to fight. And that made him feel powerless. "Yeah, okay," he muttered under his breath, his steps slower as he followed the others.

The silence lingered, pressing down on them like a heavy weight as they walked away from The Ori. They were used to violence, to dealing with broken noses and bruises, but this? This was a kind of trauma they couldn't fight. It left them feeling helpless, lost.

What happened to her? The question hung in the air, unspoken but shared by all of them.

Umemiya remained behind, standing alone outside the restroom door, his mind churning with doubt. He had sent the boys away because he knew Akame needed space, but the weight of the situation still pressed down on him. Was I doing the right thing? He wasn't sure.

He stared at the first aid kit in his hands, tightening his grip on it as he waited. What does she need? Am I even helping?

A sigh escaped him, the frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. All he could do now was wait.