SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 1 || 9. Ghosts on My Skin

Yuta's breath was shallow, each exhale a strained gasp as he lay broken on the floor. His body was covered in bruises, his lip split, blood trickling from his mouth. His vision was blurry, but he could make out the blurred shape of the man standing above him—tall, with a cruel smirk, relishing in the twisted game he was playing.

The leader of the thugs—the one responsible for all of this—casually kicked Yuta's side, laughing darkly when a pained groan escaped his lips. "You've got some fight in you," the leader muttered, his voice a low, mocking drawl, "but so did she."

Yuta tried to move, tried to push through the pain, but his body refused to cooperate. Every inch of him ached. His uncle, who had done nothing but watch the beating unfold, lay unconscious nearby, a bottle of cheap liquor still clutched in his hand.

Just when the leader raised his foot to deliver another kick, the door crashed open, the force of it slamming against the wall. The sound echoed through the cramped apartment, drawing everyone's attention.

Togame stormed into the room, eyes blazing with fury, his fists already clenched at his sides. Behind him, Tomiyama followed, his expression grim and focused. The sight of Yuta, lying battered on the floor, sent a jolt of rage through Togame, and his gaze locked onto the thug standing over his friend.

The leader of the thugs turned slowly, his smirk never fading. He sized up Togame with a twisted smile, clearly unfazed by the anger radiating off him.

"Ah," the leader grinned, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "Come to save your buddy?"

Togame didn't answer. His jaw tightened, his body coiled with barely contained fury. Every part of him screamed to act, to wipe the smug smile off the leader's face. His fists trembled at his sides, the need for violence surging through him.

The leader tilted his head, his grin widening as he chuckled, a dark, mocking sound. "I'm afraid you're a bit late," he said, his voice low and dripping with sadistic satisfaction. "She was quite the show."

That was all it took.

Togame's world went red.

The leader's words reverberated in his mind like a poison, the image of Akame's terrified, bruised face flashing before him. His rage exploded, a fire so intense it consumed him completely. Without another thought, Togame lunged at the man, a roar tearing from his throat as he unleashed everything he had.

His first punch collided with the leader's jaw, the impact sending him stumbling back. But Togame didn't stop. He couldn't. The fury inside him burned too brightly, pushing him forward with a relentless drive. His fists flew, each strike landing with brutal force—on the man's ribs, his face, his gut. Togame's movements were wild but precise, every hit fueled by the need to make this man suffer for what he'd done.

The leader barely had time to register the onslaught before Togame's next punch sent him reeling. He tried to fight back, swinging wildly in an attempt to land a blow, but Togame's rage was too powerful. He was too fast, too angry. The leader's blows barely grazed him.

Togame hammered into him with everything he had, blood spraying across the dingy apartment as his fists connected over and over again. The leader's cocky grin was long gone, replaced by desperation and fear as he realized he was losing control. He staggered back, trying to put distance between them, but Togame was relentless.

With one final, devastating punch, Togame slammed his fist into the leader's face, sending him crashing to the floor. The sickening thud of his body hitting the ground echoed through the room, followed by a heavy silence. Blood pooled beneath the man, and he didn't move.