SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 1 || 8. The Weight of Gentle Hands

The cool night air hit Akame as she stepped out of the restroom, a sharp contrast to the stuffy stillness inside. The breeze was calming against her flushed skin, but it did little to ease the tension knotted in her chest. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then she froze.

Umemiya stood there, leaning casually against the wall, his trench coat still absent from his shoulders. He was alone—no gang of boys, no concerned glances—just him. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes, though always warm, were watchful, fixed gently on her as she emerged.

His usual kind smile was softer, more reserved, as if he understood the weight of the moment and didn't want to overwhelm her. He didn't move toward her, giving her space, but the first aid kit in his hands showed that he had stayed for a reason.

For a brief second, Akame's guard slipped. She hadn't expected this. She thought the others would still be there, waiting awkwardly, too many eyes on her. But seeing Umemiya alone—a quiet, steady presence—brought a strange, unexpected sense of relief. The tightness in her chest eased, if only slightly.

She took a few hesitant steps forward, still clutching the trench coat around her like a shield, her expression carefully guarded. But inside, she felt something soften.

"Everyone else...?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I sent them back to Café Pathos," Umemiya replied, his voice calm, his tone steady. "Figured you'd want some space."

His words settled over her like a balm. He wasn't pressing her, wasn't trying to fix everything or force her to talk. He was simply there, giving her the distance she needed, understanding without needing to ask.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was a reprieve from the storm that had been raging inside her since the moment she ran from her house.

Umemiya shifted slightly, holding up the first aid kit in his hands. "I can help patch you up—if that's okay," he said carefully, his tone gentle. "Just your hands, feet, knees, maybe your lip. I don't want to overstep."

Akame hesitated, her fingers tightening briefly around the trench coat. The idea of being touched, even in the most harmless way, sent a flicker of discomfort through her. She didn't want anyone near her right now. But Umemiya's calm presence made her feel... safe. He wasn't trying to take control or crowd her. He was giving her the option, letting her decide. That sense of control was what she needed.

After a long pause, she nodded, her voice quiet but steady. "Okay."

Umemiya moved carefully, his actions slow and deliberate. He didn't make a big deal out of it, just opened the kit and pulled out antiseptic wipes, bandages, and ointment. Kneeling in front of her, he glanced up, offering her a small, reassuring smile.

"You can sit down, if you want," he said softly. "I'll be quick."

Akame hesitated for a moment before lowering herself onto the edge of a nearby bench, her legs weak and unsteady beneath her. The cold metal felt grounding, its chill a reminder that she was still here, still holding herself together. She stretched out her feet, the raw skin scraped and sore from her desperate run.

Umemiya knelt down and started with her hands, carefully cleaning the cuts. "This might sting," he warned, his voice calm, almost soothing.

The sting was sharp, but Akame gritted her teeth, refusing to show how much it hurt. She had felt worse tonight—much worse. But as Umemiya worked, his touch gentle and deliberate, she realized that, for the first time in hours, she didn't feel threatened by someone's closeness.