AKAME ASSASINATION (74)
"Maomao-chan." Koji's voice was careful, measured—the tone of a man walking through a minefield. "What are you doing here?"
"Answer me first." The blade at his throat didn't waver. Neither did her gaze. "What's going on here?"
"Well... I um..."
"Be very careful how you answer." Maomao's voice dropped, soft and dangerous. "Depending on that answer, I might just let you keep one eye."
Koji could tell she was serious. Absolutely, completely serious. But beneath the rage, beneath the blade and the threat, he saw something else in those blue-green eyes. Something deeper than anger.
Whatever it was, he'd have to appeal to it.
***
MEANWHILE, ELSEWHERE
"You sure you can fight me in that condition?" Nina's voice was pure playfulness, a cat circling a wounded mouse. The pixels on her screen formed a delighted, anticipatory grin. "You claim to have all this conviction, but you really can't achieve anything with it if you're dead."
"Then..." Gil's voice was thick with blood, but the fire hadn't dimmed. "I just have to. I have to."
BLUH.
A handful of blood poured from his mouth, splattering the dust-covered floor. His knees buckled. He fell forward, catching himself on hands that shook like leaves in a storm. His vision blurred further—edges dissolving into static, the world becoming impressionistic smears of color and shadow.
Nina moved.
Not with the violent speed of attack, but with the patient confidence of someone who knew the outcome was already decided. She circled behind him, slow and deliberate. Her hand reached down, fingers curling around his head, gripping fully.
"At least give me more time to flaunt my authority over you," she purred.
And then—
Energy.
It surged through Gil's body like a wave of warmth, sudden and unexpected. Not the crackling static of Fragment Energy, not the burning rush of his lightning affinity. Something else. Something natural. Intimate. Alive.
Nina pushed him, rolling him onto his back. She straddled him, settling onto his lower abdomen with casual familiarity.
"What..." Gil's voice cracked. "What are we doing?"
"Relax." The emoji on her screen winked. "The more you struggle, the weirder this gets."
She pulled off her gloves—tossing them aside with theatrical flair—and took his hands in hers. Her fingers traced his palms, his knuckles, the spaces between. She cradled them, engulfing them in her warmth.
"You have surprisingly soft hands," she observed.
"Um... I guess?" Gil's voice was strangled. A new experience was being unlocked in his mind, and his brain was struggling to file it under any known category.
"Have you ever had sex?" The question rolled off her tongue like she was asking about the weather. Like this was a normal conversation to have while sitting on top of a bleeding teenager.
"Well... not really." Gil's face was a fascinating shade of red beneath the blood. "I don't think I was permitted to do that."
"Like... ever? Or..."
"Before marriage, I guess." He swallowed hard. "Although... I'm not really interested."
Nina's screen lit up—genuine surprise breaking through the performance. "So you don't want to have sex with such a beautiful woman? I mean, I'm already on top of you."
Gil stared at her. His face, through some miracle of teenage awkwardness overriding mortal danger, somehow got redder.
"Nah." His voice was flat. "I just don't find you attractive."
She squeezed his hands.
"Ouch!" Gil yelped. "Hey! What are you doing?!"
"You don't have to say it like that." The emoji on her screen was pouting—an exaggerated, theatrical pout. "Also, you have no taste. That's why you'll be a virgin forever."
"Hey!" Gil finally wrenched his hands free from her grip. "Does this sex talk—and this position—have anything to do with anything? You said you wanted to kill me a few seconds ago!"
Nina tilted her head. The emoji shifted to a thoughtful expression, one pixelated finger tapping where a chin would be.
"Oh... yeah. About that." She waved a hand dismissively. "No. Not really."
She held the edge of her display—a gesture that would have been cupping her chin if she had one.
"Okay. For your first question: yes, it does have a reason. But I'll answer the second one first, since it's easier." She leaned forward, and for a moment, the playfulness dropped away. "I want your help to overthrow the Blight Household."
"!"
"I know you're capable of great things." Her voice was different now—no performance, no teasing. Just words, heavy with meaning. "And I know you'll surpass me someday. I can feel it."
"But... why?" Gil's confusion cut through the pain. "Why would you want to do that? Isn't that your home?"
"Home?" Nina leaned forward, slapping her hand down next to his face. She came closer—close enough that if she had lips, they would have been inches from his. "That hell hole is no home of mine."
Her voice trembled. Just slightly. Almost imperceptibly.
"Have you ever lived in a place surrounded by powerless people? With people at the top who look down on them and do whatever they want?"
Gil's eyes widened.
'Of course.' The memories flooded back—the village, the bishop, the helplessness. The years of watching and waiting and fearing. "That's how my entire life was before I met Mr. Blake and Mr. Akame."
"Then you understand." Something in Nina's voice cracked, just for a moment. "You understand the want. The need to get back at them." Her hands trembled against the floor. "Those people—they're monsters. All of them. They only care about their power. About becoming stronger. They lack conviction. Backbone. Everything evil about this world..." She paused, collecting herself. "It all comes from them."
"So..." Gil's voice was quiet. "You want to murder all of them?"
"Just the ones at the top." Nina's screen displayed a simple, serious face. "I want to put someone else up there. Younger blood. Someone who has a heart of gold." She looked at him—really looked at him. "A child of hope."
'Someone like you.'
The words hung in the air.
Gil could feel it—the pain beneath her words. The subtle shaking of her hands against the floor. It was small, easy to miss, but it was there. He understood that pain. He'd lived it. Everything he'd done up until this point—every fight, every near-death experience, every moment of pushing past his limits—it was all for the same thing. Revenge for his people. Change for those who couldn't fight for themselves.
"But..." He swallowed. "I'm not strong enough for that."
Nina sat back up, the weight shifting on his abdomen. "Oh, I know. At your current level, you couldn't get past our fodder members. Let alone me, or someone like Donovan."
"Well, you didn't have to rub it in." Gil squinted, embarrassment somehow managing to pierce through the mortal peril.
"Oh, hush." She waved a hand. "Relax. Tell you what—I'll help you get stronger. And once you do, you promise me you'll help me usurp the Blight head."
Gil didn't even need to think about it.
'Why would I say no? Mr. Blake helped me when I needed it most. It would be stupid to say anything but yes.' A pause in his thoughts. 'Plus, I get powers. Win-win.'
"Deal!"
They shook hands—his bloodied, trembling ones clasped in her warm, steady grip.
"Also." Gil's voice returned to its earlier confusion. "What was the reason for you sitting on top of me?"
"Oh." Nina's screen shifted to a slightly embarrassed expression—a rare genuine crack in her performance. "I was trying to stimulate your body into producing dopamine. Helps with chi flow and internal enhancement." She leaned in again, closer this time. "When two people—primarily a woman and a man—have intercourse, they circulate chi. Yin and Yang." A shrug. "But since we don't have time for all that, skinship will just have to do."
She opened her jacket slightly.
"Unless..." The emoji on her screen formed a sultry, suggestive expression. "You want me to be your first time?"
"Nah, I'm good."
"SERIOUSLY?!" The sultry expression shattered into indignant fury. "Am I really that ugly?!"
IT'S PROBABLY THE MASK
TO BE CONTINUED.....