My warning echoed in our communicators, a panicked whisper in the storm of chaos. "She's inside. She's not after the target. She... she's coming for me."
Ryukyu reacted before I even finished speaking. The instincts of a veteran hero took over. With one swift, powerful motion, she pulled me behind her, her slender body in its evening gown becoming a living shield. I could see the skin on her arms and back begin to harden, faint dark-blue scales appearing beneath the silk fabric as she instinctively activated a part of her Quirk. She was a dragon ready to protect her nest.
"Nejire, focus on our balcony! Give us light support and prepare to engage!" she commanded, her calm voice now as sharp as steel. "Ground teams, accelerate the evacuation! Civilian safety is the top priority! Treat this as a full-scale villain attack!"
In the middle of the hall, illuminated by the blue light of Nejire's energy, chaos reigned. The wealthy guests shoved one another, their elegance and dignity gone, replaced by primal fear. But on our balcony, time seemed to slow. The air grew heavy, filled with an almost unbearable tension.
And then, she appeared.
She didn't leap or break in. She simply stepped out of the shadows at the end of the balcony, as if the darkness itself had given birth to her. Akame stood there, the simple maid's dress she wore as a disguise fluttering gently in the breeze from a broken window. Her ruby-red eyes didn't glance at the softly growling Ryukyu. They paid no mind to Nejire hovering above, ready to fire. Her eyes were fixed only on me, locked with the intensity of a predator that had found its most fascinating prey.
"I don't know who you are," Ryukyu said, her voice low and threatening. "But you've chosen the wrong target."
Without warning, Ryukyu lunged forward. The newly formed claws on her hands slashed through the air, aiming to incapacitate Akame. But Akame moved with inhuman grace. She swayed to the side, avoiding the attack by millimeters, then used the marble wall of the balcony as a foothold to launch herself into the air, flipping over Ryukyu's head.
"She's too fast!" Ryukyu hissed.
The fight erupted on our narrow balcony. It was a spectacle of contrasts. On one side, Ryukyu was a force of nature, each of her attacks holding the power to shatter concrete, but her movements were slightly hampered by the cramped space and her gown. On the other side, Akame was the embodiment of lethal efficiency. She lacked Ryukyu's physical strength, but her speed, her agility, and her ability to use every surface as a foothold made her an impossible opponent to corner.
"I can't get a clean shot!" Nejire yelled from above. "She keeps moving near Ryukyu!"
I stood in the back, forced to be a spectator. I was the center of this conflict, yet I was the one who could do the least at this moment. I could only analyze, my mind racing. Akame wasn't trying to defeat Ryukyu. She was just defending, dodging, and constantly trying to find an opening to get past her and closer to me.
"She's using the light reflecting off the crystals in the wall sconces to hide her movements for a split second!" I yelled into the communicator, realizing her subtle trick. "She's heading for the east side of the balcony!"
Based on my information, Nejire adjusted her attack, firing smaller waves of energy to cut off Akame's path. Ryukyu, hearing my prediction, also changed the direction of her assault, trying to ambush Akame at the spot I had indicated. It was a coordinated attack that should have worked.
But Akame, somehow, seemed to have expected it. Just before she reached the ambush point, she changed direction drastically in mid-air. She leaped, not to the balcony floor, but onto its marble railing. From there, she jumped again, this time in the most unexpected direction: toward the giant crystal chandelier hanging in the center of the hall.
She landed lightly on its metal frame, perfectly balanced amidst the thousands of glittering crystals. For a moment, she paused there, looking down at us like a gargoyle. Then, with one swift motion, she did something that made my blood run cold. She didn't attack us. She attacked the thick chain holding the chandelier to the ceiling. She drew her sword—Murasame—and with a single, clean slash, the main support chain was severed.
With a deafening groan of tortured metal, the multi-ton crystal chandelier began to fall.
It fell straight toward the crowd of still-panicked civilians on the floor below, where Uraraka and Tsuyu were struggling to guide the evacuation.
It was a cruel and brilliant choice. Akame had created an impossible dilemma for the heroes. Chase her, or save dozens of innocent lives.
For Ryukyu and Nejire, it wasn't a choice at all.
"Damn you!" Ryukyu roared. She ignored Akame completely and leaped from the balcony, her form beginning to enlarge in mid-air as she flew down to try and catch or slow the chandelier's fall.
"I'll help you!" Nejire yelled, rocketing down and firing her energy waves, not to destroy the chandelier, but to try and push it toward a more empty area.
On the floor below, Uraraka ran desperately, trying to touch the giant object to negate its weight. Tsuyu used her long tongue to pull people out of the danger zone. Every hero in the room was now completely focused on disaster mitigation.
And in the midst of it all, Akame landed back on the balcony railing, this time on the balcony directly opposite me. The path between us was now completely clear. She had created her chaos, and she had gotten what she wanted.
I stood alone. Ryukyu and Nejire were occupied. I was the only line of defense. The heat in my chest now felt like an inferno, ready to explode. I had no other choice.
Akame looked at me from across the way. "Now it's just the two of us," she said, her cold voice carrying clearly even amidst the commotion below. "I need answers. Who are you? And where did you get that armor?"
She dashed forward, crossing the distance between us in the blink of an eye.
I met her charge. I didn't try for a full manifestation. I didn't have time. I relied on my training, calling forth parts of the armor as needed. The right gauntlet appeared to block her kick. The left leg guard formed as I kicked back. Our fight was a blur of motion, a clash of black armor against a simple maid's outfit on a balcony overlooking a scene of destruction. She wasn't using the blade of her sword; she was using its scabbard and hilt as a blunt weapon, but each blow still had the force to crack bone.
She was far more skilled than me. I could only defend, driven back step by step. Every block, every parry, drained my stamina rapidly.
As we continued to fight, the resonance between us grew stronger. The closer we were, the more intense it felt. This was no longer just an 'echo.' It was psychic feedback. Suddenly, my head was assaulted by images and feelings that weren't my own. I saw flashes of a vast grassland. I felt the taste of roasted meat in my mouth. I felt a piercing sadness for the loss of a blonde-haired friend. I felt the cold stone of the Night Raid headquarters. They were her memories. Her emotions. Her pain. It all flooded my mind, an echo of her tragic life.
The wave of psychic feedback left me open. My head throbbed, my vision blurring for a moment. I stumbled backward, losing my balance. My partial armor flickered and then vanished, leaving me completely exposed and vulnerable.
Akame, who had apparently also felt the echo, though not as strongly as I had, stopped her attack. She stared at me as I staggered, her expression filled with confusion. She must have felt something from me, too—the confusion of being torn between two lives.
She saw her opening. She raised her sword. But that's when I did the only thing I could think of. I didn't try to summon my armor back. I didn't try to run. I looked straight into her red eyes and shouted, not as a hero or a fighter, but as someone from her distant past.
"Stop this, Akame! It's me!"
She froze.
Below us, the chandelier was finally halted, mere feet from hitting the floor, thanks to the combined efforts of Ryukyu, Nejire, Uraraka, and Tsuyu. But they all looked up when they heard my shout.
Akame stood over me, kneeling and defenseless. Her sword was raised, but her hand was trembling slightly. Her usually calm face was now a maelstrom of violent emotions. She had felt my memories, too. The faint flashes of a modern world, of anime, of a story in which she was a character.
She looked at me, and for the first time, I didn't see an assassin. I saw a lost girl, a tired soldier, confronted with an impossible truth. Her voice, when it finally came out, was just a fragile, disbelieving whisper.
"...Tatsumi?"