SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 1 || 10. The Weight We Carry

The cold night air clung to Togame's sweat-soaked skin as he pushed open the door to Café Pathos, his breath ragged, his mind spinning with everything that had just unfolded. The fight, the mad sprint to get back—none of it mattered now. He needed to see her, to know she was okay.

He barely made it through the door before the sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs. The café fell silent as Akame descended, fragile and ghostly in the too-large white pajamas Kotoha had lent her. Togame's heart clenched painfully at the sight of her. She looked broken—bandaged and bruised, her skin pale and her eyes red from crying. Yet, despite everything, the fear in her eyes was mixed with a desperate hope, as if the answer to her unspoken question would determine whether she could keep standing.

Togame's breath caught in his throat as their eyes met, the words tangling in his chest. He wanted to tell her everything, to take her pain away, but the only thing that mattered right now was Yuta.

"He's okay," Togame whispered, his voice rough, barely audible over the silence in the café.

The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, as if Akame's mind couldn't fully process them. Then, slowly, the tension in her face began to melt. Her lips trembled, and a fragile smile broke through the mask of fear she had been wearing. Relief washed over her like a tidal wave, and before anyone could react, her knees gave out beneath her.

Togame moved faster than he thought possible, catching her in his arms before she hit the floor. The moment she collapsed against him, sobs wracked her small frame. She buried her face in his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt as the fear and pain she had been holding back all night finally spilled over. Togame held her tightly, his heart aching as her quiet sobs cut through the silence.

He didn't speak. There were no words that could fix this. All he could do was hold her, let her release the weight she had been carrying, and be there when she needed him.

Akame trembled against him, her body shaking with exhaustion and relief. Each sob that escaped her lips was like a release—a desperate cry for the safety she had lost. Togame's arms tightened around her, one hand gently cradling the back of her head as he held her close. He could feel her tears soaking into his shirt, warm and silent, as her fragile frame pressed against his.

For a moment, the rest of the world faded away. The café, the boys sitting in silence, the chaos that had erupted earlier—it all dissolved into the background. All that mattered was Akame, trembling and broken in his arms.

Togame's breath hitched, the rage from earlier still simmering beneath the surface, threatening to break through. He couldn't shake the leader's vile words from his mind—the sickening way he had spoken about her, about what she had endured. The image of that man's twisted grin, his cruel remarks, made Togame's stomach churn, but he forced it down. Now wasn't the time for anger. Not when Akame needed him.

"It's over now," he whispered, his voice rough and low. He wasn't sure if he was saying it for her or for himself, but the words slipped out before he could stop them. "You're safe."

Akame shifted slightly in his arms, her face still buried in his chest as she struggled to catch her breath. Slowly, she pulled away just enough to look up at him, her red, swollen eyes searching his face for reassurance. Her lips trembled as she spoke, her voice barely a whisper. "Yuta... he's really okay?"

Togame met her gaze, his heart twisting at the sight of her broken expression. He nodded, his hand brushing a strand of white hair from her face. "Yeah," he said softly, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside him. "He's hurt, but he's alive. They're taking him to the hospital."