SUB ROSA | Wind Breaker

Arc 4 || 2. Sticky Situations

Kaji's apartment felt oppressively quiet when he finally made it back. The rain had soaked him through, and he could still feel the lingering burn of Yuta's fury in his chest, but he pushed it all aside as he unlocked the door. The metallic clank of the lock echoed in the silence as he stepped inside, the door closing with a soft click behind him.

His heart was pounding, more than he wanted to admit. Anger simmered under the surface—anger at Yuta for his arrogance, for thinking he had some sort of ownership over Akame. But more than that, there was a deeper frustration, a fierce protectiveness that he couldn't quite shake. Akame didn't need someone to dictate her choices. She needed someone who understood how to step back when she asked for space. And Kaji was going to be that person, whether Yuta liked it or not.

Taking a deep breath, he headed down the hall to his bedroom, expecting... well, he wasn't sure what he was expecting. He opened the door, the hinges creaking, and his breath hitched at the sight before him.

There she was—still in his bed, exactly as he'd left her. Akame was lying on her back, the soft grey hoodie he'd given her slipping off one shoulder, exposing the pale curve of her neck. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, and she was still holding the lollipop in her hand, absentmindedly twirling it as she flipped through the pages of one of his manga. Her legs were bare, the oversized hoodie bunching around her thighs in a way that made his throat go dry.

She didn't even glance up when he entered, her focus entirely on the manga in her hands, and he found himself struck by how comfortable she looked in his space—how natural it felt to see her there, like she'd always belonged.

Has she been like this the whole time? The thought made his chest tighten, his gaze drawn to the way her hair fanned out across his pillow, still slightly damp from earlier. It was a simple sight, but there was something intimate about it—something that made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he wasn't used to. He hated it. He loved it. And he didn't know how to reconcile the two.

"Hey," he said, his voice rougher than he intended as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Akame finally looked up, her eyes meeting his with a detached curiosity. She didn't smile, didn't move—just watched him with that same unnerving calm, as if she'd been expecting him.

"You took a while," she said simply, her tone nonchalant. It was the most she'd said since he'd left.

"Ran into Yuta," he replied, trying to sound unaffected, though he knew his irritation was seeping into his voice. "He was looking for you."

"Mm," she hummed softly, and something like a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she shifted on the bed, stretching out her legs. The hoodie rode up even further, and Kaji had to force his gaze away, clearing his throat as he moved to place the bag of anpans on the desk.

"Hungry?" he asked, his voice strained.

"Starving," she said with a light, airy tone, but her eyes were locked onto him, assessing his every move.

Kaji reached into the bag and tossed one of the anpans to her, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened as she caught it with a light laugh. She sat up, peeling back the wrapper, and he couldn't help but notice how he had never heard her laugh before, despite how softly and briefly this one existed. She took a bite, the sticky sweet filling staining her lips, and he swallowed hard, feeling something hot coil in his gut.

"You told him I was safe," she said between bites, her gaze flickering to his with a mixture of curiosity and something else—something he couldn't quite pin down.

"Yeah," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "I told him you didn't want to see him."

Akame's expression didn't change, but he saw the way her fingers tightened around the anpan, her knuckles going white. For a moment, he thought she might argue, might tell him that he was wrong, but she didn't. Instead, she just kept eating, her eyes distant and unreadable.