The sky was clear, a pale sheet of blue brushed with faint clouds. The quiet calm over the Association grounds stood in stark contrast to the weight Kouji carried as he walked through the reinforced hallway beneath the headquarters. His steps echoed off the metal walls, each footfall a drumbeat leading him toward the cell.
He had recovered physically. So had Ryo, who had already returned to overseeing operations. It was Ryo who made the arrangements after Kouji asked — after he had quietly stood by his bedside and said, "I want to speak with Akechi."
Now, the steel door loomed ahead, its control panel guarded by two Hunter officers. One nodded as Kouji approached, pressing a button. The door hissed and slid open slowly.
Inside, the air was unnaturally still. The room pulsed with a faint hum — the dull thrum of anti-aura suppression radiating from the walls, floor, and ceiling. In the center of the room sat Akechi, cross-legged, his hands folded loosely in his lap. A shackle was fastened to his ankle, glowing faintly. His posture was relaxed. Almost meditative.
His eyes opened as Kouji stepped in.
"Well, if it isn't the boy who ruined my little experiment," Akechi said with a smirk, voice still bearing that smooth undertone of mischief. "Did you come to gloat?"
"I came to ask you why."
Akechi tilted his head slightly, amused. "Why? That's such a heavy word. You'll have to be more specific."
"You know what I mean. Why betray the Association? Why all this? Why create those things?"
Akechi leaned back, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, as if the answers were floating just out of reach. "Sometimes… the only way to fix something broken is to break something else"
"Your should know how it works, don't you?"
Kouji didn't respond. His fists were clenched.
Akechi continued. "Tell me, Kouji — have you ever seen a child cry because his mother was eaten alive by something no one could stop? Have you seen a town left in ash, because the Association arrived too late? We live in a world that fears the things it doesn't understand. Devils, Demons, Nightmares."
"So your answer was secret experiments?" Kouji snapped.
Akechi chuckled low. "Peace is not free. I just came to the conclusion, that coexistence between Human and Nightmares is only possible, if someone becomes the Devil first"
His voice had not changed. Still sly. Still half-arrogant. But beneath it, Kouji felt something else — something that pulsed like guilt or sorrow dressed up in riddles.
"You talk like you're saving the world," Kouji said, "but people died. You turned lives into tools."
Akechi nodded slowly. "Yes. And I'll carry that weight. But don't pretend this world isn't just as cruel when it kills without hesitation — as long as the paperwork is signed."
Silence.
Then Akechi looked directly at him. "Can you hear it, Kouji?"
"…Hear what?"
"The Devil's voice."
Kouji froze. "…Sometimes. When I'm close to the edge."
Akechi's smirk faltered for the first time. His gaze shifted, a trace of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
"I can't hear mine," he said simply. "Not a whisper. Not anymore."
"…What does that mean?"
"It means," Akechi said quietly, "you don't understand yourself yet. Not fully. Not until you know what your Devil is… and what part of you it's bound to. When the time comes… the Devil's voice will fade. And you'll be the one speaking."
Kouji stared at him, heart tightening, trying to make sense of it all.
"Do you regret it?" he finally asked.
Akechi didn't answer immediately. He simply closed his eyes. "Not yet."
Kouji turned to leave, his thoughts a hurricane.
Before the door closed, Akechi's voice drifted after him.
"Tell Ryo… he should be working less sloppy, with his paperwork."
The day went by, the rooftop breeze cut gently through the air, brushing past the three figures seated on the ledge. Kouji leaned back on his elbows, eyes on the sky. Yuusuke sat beside him, chewing a lollipop stick, while Ketsu stood with arms crossed, his usual stoic expression dimmed by exhaustion.
"That guy's still alive?" Yuusuke asked. "Didn't think they'd let you talk to him."
Kouji nodded. "I had to know."
"And? Did it help?"
"I'm not sure," Kouji admitted. "He talks in riddles. Like he wanted to confess without saying anything."
Ketsu scoffed. "Sounds about right for a guy like him."
They sat in silence a while longer. The city below bustled on, unaware of the strange truths stitched just beneath its surface.
"I still don't know what he really wanted," Kouji said. "But I think… he hated the same things I do."
Yuusuke nudged him lightly. "Doesn't mean he was right."
"I know."
Ketsu turned toward them. "So what now?"
Kouji stared upward.
"I don't know"