"How are you feeling today, Mr. Junichi?"
The nurse's voice was soft, melodic—the kind of tone designed to soothe agitated patients and calm anxious minds. She stood at the foot of his hospital bed, clipboard in hand, pen scratching quietly as she made her notes.
Junichi, despite being wrapped in bandages that covered most of his hairy chest, managed to summon a grin that had probably charmed its way through many a hospital corridor.
"A lot better now that you're here, Miss Jane."
Junichi was, it must be said, a man of exceptional talent—particularly when it came to women. He sat propped against pillows, his left leg stretched out before him, right knee bent with his arm draped casually across it. The picture of relaxed confidence, bandages be damned.
"Is that how you pick up women?" Jane asked, not looking up from her clipboard.
"What makes you think I pick up any women?" He scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I merely admire them. Is that so wrong?"
"Tell me then, Mr. Junichi—"
"Just Junichi." A wink. "Saves time."
She paused, finally meeting his gaze. "Well then, tell me, Junichi. How have your wounds been over the last few days?"
"They'd be a lot better if you tended to them personally."
Jane's lips twitched—almost a smile, quickly suppressed. "You're not going to stop, are you?"
"How can I?" He gave her a sidelong glance, heavy with meaning. "In the presence of such beauty?"
She spun her pen slowly between her fingers—a practiced motion, almost hypnotic. Then, unconsciously, she wet her lips. Something was clearly turning behind those eyes. A calculation. A consideration.
Perhaps she was weighing whether to let this charming patient seduce her into... well. Something. At the very least, the possibility was being entertained.
CLICK.
The door opened—not fully, just enough for a male nurse to poke his head through.
"There are a few people here to see Mr. Junichi."
'Why do people still call me "Mr."?' Junichi wondered idly.
"I thought I told everyone—no visitors." Jane's head turned, irritation flickering across her features.
"I know, ma'am, but they insisted and—"
"Open this fucking door!"
The nurse was kicked—actually kicked—through the doorway, stumbling and catching himself against the opposite wall. Through the now-open entrance strode a figure who could easily be mistaken for a disgruntled teenager, owing to certain... vertical challenges.
And, how shall we put this politely? A certain lack of mature feminine development.
Her hair was blood-red, pulled into twin ponytails that bounced with each aggressive step. A red tracksuit covered her small frame. And if you're struggling to place her, look to her cheeks—an abundance of freckles scattered like constellations across sun-kissed skin.
ARES
COUNT SAINT NO. 3
"Hey, shorty." Junichi's grin widened. "You're in the wrong place. Pretty sure the children's ward is down the hall."
The temperature in the room dropped several degrees.
"I know this fucking ape of a man isn't talking to me like that." Ares crossed the distance in an instant—literally instant, one moment by the door, the next standing on his bed, towering over him from the elevated position.
Well. Towering might be generous. She was standing on his bed and still only managed to look him in the eye at his seated level.
"Hey, kid." Junichi reached up and patted her head condescendingly—because even sitting, he was still taller than her. "You have to be at least tall enough to join the conversation."
Needless to say, this did not go over well.
"I am the average height for a woman my age!"
"Calling yourself a woman," Junichi mused, "is an insult to femininity."
Jane inserted herself between them before violence could erupt. "Can we please calm down?!"
"Who the hell are you?!" Ares's childlike voice somehow managed to convey adult levels of fury.
"I'm the nurse taking care of Mr. Junichi. I should be asking you that question."
"She's with us."
Two more figures entered the room—familiar faces that immediately shifted the atmosphere from chaotic to... official.
"Miss Amanai." Jane's professional mask snapped back into place. "Koji." She nodded to each in turn. "I had no idea the government would be involved."
"That ape friend of ours is part of the government," Rika noted dryly. She carried something wrapped in brown paper—a package of indeterminate nature.
"I see." Jane's gaze swept the room, assessing the new dynamic. "Well then. Make it quick. We were discussing something important."
She exited, pulling the door closed behind her with a soft click.
"All three of you," Junichi groaned, "just ruined my booty call."
"Ew." Ares wrinkled her nose. "Shut up. You should be happy we stopped that train wreck before it took off."
Junichi looked up at her—still standing on his bed, still radiating indignation—then turned to Rika. "You know I hate this bitch. Why'd you bring her?"
"Who are you calling a bitch?!"
"She's the one who brought us here in the first place." Maomao stretched languidly, having positioned herself by the window. "Apparently the Count Saints want to bring Akame-chan in for questioning."
"And?"
"You're the last person to fight him." Ares jumped off the bed, landing with a soft thump. "To actually talk to him, in that weird soul-place thing you do." She stuffed her hands in her tracksuit pockets. "So I hoped you could tell us whether he's of sound mind."
"We were asked to come as representatives," Rika added. "The public still doesn't trust the Vatican after everything that's happened."
"As they shouldn't." Junichi snorted. "That place is shady as hell."
"Are you trying to go to jail?" Ares sighed explosively. "Just give me the damn information already."
Junichi leaned back against his pillows, considering.
"He came into custody by himself, right?"
Rika nodded. "Yeah."
A slow smile spread across Junichi's bandaged face. Then a chuckle. Then a full-throated laugh that shook his wrapped chest.
"Then it's settled, huh?"
"What's settled?" Maomao's eyes narrowed.
Junichi's laughter faded, replaced by something sharper. Something almost like... pity.
"It seems," he said, meeting each of their gazes in turn, "that all the Count Saints are going to die."
"!"
Silence crashed down like a physical weight.
WHAT DOES HE MEAN?
TO BE CONTINUED!