SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 2 || 3. Whispers in The Parklight

It had been weeks since Akame had first mentioned wanting to see Togame again. Yuta had arranged the meeting cautiously, wanting to make sure his sister was ready for this reunion—not only physically but emotionally, too. So much had shifted since that fateful night. There were things left unsaid, unhealed, and this meeting felt like a bridge she needed to cross for her own healing.

Now, as they stood outside the meeting spot—an empty, quiet park on the outskirts of town—Akame took a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze brush against her skin. Yuta placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, silently checking in. Akame nodded, but her body was tense, her gaze distant, and he could sense her nerves.

The soft crunch of footsteps on gravel brought both of their heads up, and there he was.

Togame.

He walked toward them with a hesitation that was so unlike him, as if even approaching her felt foreign and unfamiliar. His dark hair was a little longer than she remembered, framing his face in an unpolished way that made him look older. But his eyes held something new—a heaviness that hadn't been there before, a weight that mirrored the grief and guilt she carried herself.

Togame's gaze landed on Yuta first, their eyes meeting in a silent acknowledgment. He wondered if he'd ever be able to look at Yuta without feeling the pinch of guilt that coiled deep in his chest. Yuta had once been his brother in all but blood; they'd shared everything—fights, laughs, secrets—until the rift had split them apart. But when his gaze shifted to Akame, a pang struck his heart, sharper than any guilt he'd ever felt.

He didn't quite know how to greet her. Everything about their friendship had once been so easy, natural, until the world had changed around them and he'd found himself standing on the wrong side of that divide. Now, standing just a few feet away from her, the distance between them felt vast, almost insurmountable. But the moment he saw her face—soft, open, and a little shy—his own tension faded, replaced by a quiet, aching relief.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual bravado, as if he'd forgotten how to speak to her.

Akame's lips curved into a small, hesitant smile. Her heart raced, but in seeing him again, she felt a fragile calm settle over her. "Hey."

Togame took a slow step forward, his gaze traveling over her face, her posture, trying to assess the toll her silence had taken. There was a light in her eyes he hadn't seen in so long, but it was fragile, a flicker that he wanted to protect without even knowing how.

"You look... good," he murmured, his voice carrying a rare gentleness. "Better."

Akame nodded, her voice gaining strength. "I am. I'm doing better now."

There was a silence, broken only by the distant hum of cars passing by. Togame's attention flickered back to Yuta, and he gave him a short nod. "Thanks for reaching out," he said, his voice quiet. "I didn't want to push for... anything."

Yuta's face remained neutral, his tone level. "She wanted to see you," he replied simply. "And... I think it's good for her."

Togame's gaze lingered on Yuta, the tension simmering between them. Even though the worst of their anger had faded over time, the rift remained, like a scar too deep to heal easily. There were things they didn't talk about, things that had changed the fabric of their friendship. And while Togame missed what they had once been, he wasn't sure they could ever truly bridge that gap.

But today wasn't about him and Yuta—it was about Akame. And the thought settled him. Today was a chance for her to reclaim some small part of herself, and if he could be a part of that, he'd do whatever it took.