SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 3 || 5. House With No Mirrors

The quietness of the rooftop faded as Akame descended the stairs, her mind churning, barely able to focus. The air felt heavy around her, the weight of her own thoughts pressing down with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. The moments with Togame and Umemiya replayed in her mind, tangled with an ache she couldn't name. Each almost-kiss, each unfulfilled moment, left her feeling hollow. Why had they pulled away? What was it about her that made them hesitate, that made them look at her as if they were seeing something... damaged?

As she walked, her hands drifted to her arms, unconsciously rubbing them, as if trying to scrub away something she couldn't touch. The echoes of her trauma resurfaced—the night that thug had assaulted her, the helplessness, the shame that still clung to her, no matter how hard she tried to let it go. Every rejection, every hesitant look from Togame or Umemiya, only seemed to confirm it: she was broken, a thing no one truly wanted once they got too close.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even notice Kaji as she passed by him, her gaze unfocused, her expression strained. But he noticed her immediately. There was a disturbance in the way she carried herself, a brittleness that set him on edge. Without hesitation, he turned to follow her, trailing her steps with silent concern, his eyes sharp and attentive, watching the way she seemed so lost within herself.

When she stepped outside the school, he moved faster, closing the distance between them. He reached out and caught her by the elbow, his grip firm but not harsh, grounding her just as she looked like she might break.

"Akame," he said, his voice steady, his gaze intense as he searched her face. She didn't meet his eyes; her own gaze was distant, haunted. Tears began to spill over her cheeks, and she quickly tried to wipe them away, her hands trembling as she avoided his scrutiny.

"Kaji..." she whispered, her voice barely a breath, full of apology and self-doubt. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't mean..." She couldn't finish, her voice trailing off into silence as she struggled to hold herself together. But the more she tried to pull herself back, the more she seemed to unravel.

Kaji released her arm, stepping back to give her space, but the distance only seemed to make her tremble harder. Her hands moved to her arms again, rubbing as if trying to scrub something away, her nails digging into her own skin in a frantic, desperate motion. He watched her, his mind flashing to the memory of seeing her at the festival, scrubbing her hands raw at the water basin, her face twisted in anguish.

"Stop that," he commanded, his tone firm but controlled. She didn't respond, her movements becoming more agitated, as if she hadn't even registered his presence.

"I don't... I don't know what's wrong with me," she choked out, her voice cracking as her tears fell freely. "I can't... I can't get it off. No matter how much I try, it's still there. It's like they can see it—the dirt, the... the stains—and I can't scrub them off. I'm... I'm disgusting." Her voice broke, her words spilling out in a jumbled confession of shame and anger. "Stupid boys... silly, stupid boys. It's like they get close and then they see it. They see me. And then... they pull away. Like they can see all the broken pieces."

Kaji's expression softened as he watched her, his heart twisting painfully at the sight of her hugging herself, shrinking in on herself as if she could make the shame go away. Her arms wrapped tightly around her body, her gaze distant and hollow, and then she whispered, almost to herself, "Was I... was I asking for it? Did I ask for it?"

The question made his chest tighten, a chill running down his spine. He didn't know the full extent of what she'd been through; he'd never heard her speak about it, never seen her so raw, so broken. All he knew of Akame was from a distance—a quiet strength, a reserved presence who always seemed like she was carrying something heavy, something she wouldn't let anyone else see.