Akiramon Adict

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Chapter 49: Memories

She didn’t remember how she fell asleep. When she woke up, Haise was already gone.

But no, she wasn’t alone.

Her eyes drifted to the woman who had been staring at her. Akira hadn’t seen her in years. The latter had grown her hair, now tied in a low bun, but still wore her trademark bangs over half her face.

Neither of them spoke. That was perhaps for the best.

Truth be told, Akira would rather to be alone. Touka Kirishima was a tough nut—one she’d rather not crack.

Of all the people…

“I didn’t request you,” Akira blurted, not bothering to hide her irritation. She was hoping that would send Touka to the door.

That was her wistful thinking.

Touka tilted her head slightly. “Too bad.” Her tone was neutral, completely unaffected. “All your human friends are busy. And since you bite…” She paused, placing just enough weight on the word to make Akira flinch. “I’m the only one you’ve got.” 

Touka was fully equipped for a full scale retaliation.

If that was the Akira Mado she knew…

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Chapter 49: Memories

Haise bent forward, torso folding onto his lap. He cried without reserve, letting his anguish pour out.

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

Her heart wrung as she watched him. His cry twisted in her gut like a buried knife.

So her instinct took over.

In the midst of his sorrow, a sharp clink cut through his sobs. Haise stiffened. His tearful eyes snapped up with his head, widening at what he saw.

Akira’s right hand hovered in the air, barely raised past her waist. The restraint on her arm, tethered to the bed rail by a short leash, screeched as it strained against her trembling arm. 

“You know…” She exhaled, eyes never leaving him. “I thought I could give you a Mado Punch.” 

Her restrained hand plummeted.

Not because she had given up.

She couldn’t give him the comfort he needed, the last thing she could do was showing him the reality. 

Her fingers curled into the blanket covering her from the neck down, creasing it. And without mercy, she peeled it away.

Haise’s breath hitched. His eyes didn’t waver from the bandaged stump where her left arm should have been.

“Do you see now, Haise?” Her voice quivered. Her eyes pleaded for him to face the truth. “I can’t even punch you, let alone give you a hug.” Her voice rasped. “Tell me… what can I do for you? What could you possibly get from someone like me?”

She tried. She did. But there was always that gap that she couldn’t reach.

And she had nothing left to give.

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Chapter 49: Memories

Haise frowned. “You taught me well. You cared for me like a mother would.”

Akira let out a dry laugh. She never thought that title fit her, but she didn’t rebuke him either. 

“I must be one terrible mother.”

Haise didn’t laugh. 

That was her poor attempt at lighting up the mood.

And it backfired. 

Haise looked at her with a face seemingly offended. “Yet that terrible mother is the best one I have had.” His voice was heavier than he meant it to be.

Akira fell silent, staring at him. She hadn’t meant to insult the image he carried. His mother, even though an illusion he made for himself, was sacred. Not even she was allowed to trample it.

Thus the silence stretched.

“Why are you giving up?” Haise blurted.

She really thought she had led him away. She had wanted to make it less cruel for him. But he was too smart. He wasn’t going to let her dodge the elephant in the room.

But to say she was giving up... “Am I?” Was she? She didn’t have an answer either.

“You’re not even trying.”

That wasn’t true, yet she couldn’t bring herself to argue.

“If I mean nothing to you, what about Amon? Your children?”

She said nothing.

“Is there no one who can get you to fight for your life?” Haise gritted his teeth. “We’re not giving up. Neither should you!”

“Haise…” She drew in a deep breath. “There are times when things can’t be restored.” Her eyes turned to the ceiling, lost in its blankness. “I killed three people.” From what Chigyou told her, it could have been much worse. She took Chibi. She was so close to killing her—her own child. “Even if you find a cure, the gallows will be waiting for me.”

“I killed more people than you,” Haise snapped. “I’m still here.”

“It was a different time.”

Haise clenched his jaw, hands lifting to cover his ears. “I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

“Haise…”

“I’m done listening to and doing what I’m told!” Yes, he just threw a tantrum like a boy. So what? “First Arima. Now you. None of you care about what I want.” 

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Chapter 49: Memories

“Are those Hakata dolls?”

Haise tilted his head back from his seat, catching Akira just as she stepped into the office. Her pumps clicked against the floor before she eased into the cubicle beside his, one of the six aligned in rows like obedient soldiers.

“Yes!” His eyes lit up like a boy who found a familiar face in a crowd. “You know this kind of doll?”

Akira didn’t answer right away. She pulled out her chair and sat, sliding a stack of clipped documents onto her desk.

“I have one of those,” she said, a flat remark as she used to give. “It’s a gift from my father. He picked it up during a day trip to Fukuoka.”

“Really?” His voice deflated.

The air stilled. That wistful note in his voice lingered like fog, quiet and clinging. Akira glanced over. Haise had slumped onto his desk, chin resting on folded arms, staring at the doll display with the melancholy of someone watching memories parade by.

She returned her gaze to her papers, uncapped a pen, and began annotating the first page. The meeting’s agenda still echoed in her mind. Reports and battle plans. Things that waited for no one’s mood.

This wasn’t new. Haise had a habit of being quietly devastated by trivial things. A crooked picture frame. A cracked teacup. Now, dolls in a box. He felt too deeply, too fast. 

While it was tempting, Akira stopped herself from intervening. She admitted that she hadn’t been patient with him before. But since it wasn’t work related, there’s no harm letting him figure his own way and grow.

At his own pace.

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Chapter 47: The Puppet Master

They finally saw it.

A twisted, ghoul-like face, its mouth grotesquely open, revealing long, jagged teeth. Its eyes—glazed over and bloodshot, a deep, unnatural red—locked onto them with a savage intensity.

"What... what is that?" Okabe stammered, his voice betraying the unease slowly creeping into his bones.

Marude remained unfazed, his posture relaxed despite the chaos around him. He pointed casually at the creature behind the glass, his words almost dismissive. "Oh, her? We just caught her live this morning." He paused, looking at Okabe with a slight, mocking tilt of his head. "You don’t recognize her? She used to work for Matsuoka."

Okabe’s mind raced, the pieces of the puzzle clicking together slowly. "Matsuoka?" he echoed. "Who?"

Marude’s lips curled into a dark smile. "Yes. Avalon. Remember?" He took a slow step forward, then another, closing the distance between them until he crouched in front of the Minister. His eyes gleamed with an almost predatory gleam. "An anti-ghoul system, right? Just helicopters and drones? That’s what they told you? Or..." He stood up, his voice rising slightly. "Is that what you want me to believe?"

A cold silence stretched out between them, thick with tension.

Then, the unmistakable click of a safety being disengaged shattered the moment.

"Enough of this game, Marude." General Hoshino’s voice was calm, but the barrel of his pistol was pressed firmly against Marude’s temple. "Take him away."

The soldiers moved forward in synchrony, ready to restrain the man who had outsmarted them for too long. But Marude froze, his eyes flashing as he quickly glanced to his left. Without warning, he leaned back while slapping Hoshino’s pistol aside, sending the barrel swinging dangerously away from his head, then twisted it back toward Hoshino.

In the same fluid motion, Marude drew another pistol from behind his waist and leveled it at Okabe’s chest.

"Step back!" Marude’s roar filled the space, his voice laced with venom as he swept the room with his dangerous gaze.

The soldiers hesitated for a split second, uncertainty clouding their judgment. The moment stretched longer than it should have, the weight of the stand-off suffocating.

Hoshino’s eyes were steely, wary, but he didn’t back down. "You think you can get away with this?" he said, his voice low and menacing, though his hands remained steady on his own weapon.

Marude’s lips twisted into a cold sneer. “You don’t want to find out,” he warned, his voice razor-sharp. His grip tightened on the pistol as he barked at the soldiers, “Back off—keep moving! And you! Minister—get on your feet!”

Okabe, trembling but defiant, slowly pushed himself up, eyes darting between Marude and the sea of rifles still aimed at him. The air was thick with unspoken threats, the weight of drawn triggers hovering over the room.

Marude moved with deliberate caution, every step forcing the soldiers further away, scanning their movements for even the slightest flicker of hesitation. One wrong move from either side, and the tension would snap into bloodshed.

"Now! Chigyou!" Marude barked.

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Chapter 46: Gotcha

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A cacophony of voices erupted the moment he finished. Several hands shot up, but one reporter was faster, cutting through the noise.

"Director Marude, why were the targets captured instead of being eliminated on-site? Does their connection to the TSC have anything to do with this decision?"

Marude exhaled sharply, his patience already fraying. "No. We followed standard protocol. Capture was the objective."

"But sources indicate this operation was a joint effort between the TSC and Matsuoka Group," another reporter interjected. "Was their survival part of an agreement between you and Matsuoka?"

Marude’s gaze sharpened. "Yes, the operation was a joint effort. And yes, there was an agreement—but it pertained solely to logistics. The TSC operates under the Ministry of Defense and regularly collaborates with civilian contractors when necessary. This was no exception."

Another voice rose from the crowd. "One of the apprehended ghouls is Koutarou Amon, a current instructor at the TSC. Given his past, how was he allowed to move freely? Would you call this an oversight?"

Marude’s grip tightened slightly on the podium. "Oversight?" He scoffed. "Article 271, Section A of the New Ghoul Regulation Act grants ghouls the same rights as humans—unless they display aggression toward civilians. Amon was not an active threat until recent confirmation identified him as the kakuja in question."

Murmurs rippled through the press pool. 

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Chapter 45: Hunted

Please let him make it.

Amon pleaded, the words a silent mantra hammering through his skull. The rain had stopped, but his suit—drenched fabric clinging to his skin—still weighed him down. The discomfort, however, was the last thing his mind registered.

His breath came in ragged bursts as he vaulted from rock to rock, each landing slick with mud. His legs burned, muscles screaming for relief, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t.

If only he had a tracker on her.

The thought twisted in his gut. He had never considered it before. Not for her. Not when it should’ve been obvious.

Because the truth was—neither had she.

She had never thought she would become a threat.

The hunted.

In fact, it had always been him—the underlying danger.

A mindless demon crouched within his bones, waiting and aching to rule. The only reason it had stayed dormant was because it hadn’t been fed. The RC in the synthetic food hadn’t given it enough fuel to kickstart resurrection.

But there was always a chance it would break out of its cage.

Given the right stimulant.

That was how dangerous he was.

Not her.

And yet, here he was, chasing after her, praying he wasn’t too late.

If anything happened to her, to Hikari or Chibi… he wouldn’t survive it.

No. He couldn’t let that happen.

Amon leaped across a cliffside, landing hard on a flat outcrop. He barely registered the sting of impact. That awful, ragged cry he heard before… It should have been nearby.

A rustle. A sharp shift behind the bark of a fallen tree.

His head snapped toward it.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It was too tall to be Chibi. It didn’t take long for a face to loom into the morning light.

“Hikari!” Amon surged forward. He reached for the boy, hands gripping his arms, patting him down in frantic search of injuries. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Nothing. No wounds, no scratches.

Relief flooded him, but it was fleeting.

Hikari’s eyes were wide and flickering. They were unfocused. His gaze wasn’t on Amon, but cast down, as if seized by a dazed spell.

Amon started to speak, but before the words left his lips, Hikari sluggishly raised a trembling hand.

His finger pointed past Amon, who instinctively turned his head to the same direction.

Into the forest.

Amon’s attention returned to the boy, who said nothing. Hikari’s silence was heavier than any words. His stunned expression, the rigid way his arm lifted—it was foreboding.

He was too late.

Amon forced himself to turn. But his muscles refused and locked up, resisting the motion even as instinct drove him forward. He wanted to stop. To root himself to the ground. To not see. To not confirm.

But he had no choice. It had to be him.

He stepped into the trees, the scent of damp earth filling his lungs, the crunch of leaves beneath his boots unsettling in its familiarity. Each step dragged him back to that fateful day he thought he had long since buried.

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Chapter 44: Wanderers

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

The place was dark. No matter which way she turned to, she could find nothing. 

No light. Not a way out.

“Mama.”

The voice surrounded her, echoing in the void, reverberating from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

“Chibi?” she called out, turning left, then right. Nothing. Just blackness stretching endlessly.

“Mama?”

She ran toward the sound. Where? Where was she?

“Chibi…” The ghoul murmured, breath heavy, unsteady. Her body lurched forward, shambling uphill, the weight of something unseen pressing down on her shoulders.

She stopped.

Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. A pair of Hessian boots stepped into view.

Natori removed the monocle from his left eye, taking his time as he approached. A grin cracked between his lips, excitement flickering behind his gaze.

Ten years. This was the day he had dreamed of.

He came dangerously close—only to stop an arm’s length away.

His gloved hand reached out, lifting her chin. 

She didn’t resist. Didn’t fight back. Like a lamb about to be slaughtered.

Her eyes—drowned in red—glowed faintly in the dark. Blood smeared her jaws, staining her neck, soaking through her gown.

“Fully red eyes…” He stretched her eyelids apart, scrutinizing them as if inspecting a pet. “That’s unexpected. And no sign of a kagune… Malnourished? Or is the metamorphosis not yet complete?” He should have waited, but he just couldn’t.

Natori’s grin widened. “But the red,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Untamed. Defiant. It suits you so well—just as I imagined.”

A wheeze rasped from her throat, low and uneven, like a response she hadn’t meant to give.

Natori tilted his head, watching the way the crimson glow flickered in the dimness. He was enjoying that angle of view—him looking down at her—at Akira Mado, the ghoul executioner, reduced to something less than human. He always wondered how it felt to stand over some filthy animal.

That was—if she even qualified as one.

The softness in Natori’s gaze vanished. A dark shadow passed over his expression.

“Kneel!”

The word came sharp as a knife’s edge, punctuated by his fist driving into her gut.

The ghoul buckled, a strangled breath escaping her lips as she crumpled onto her knees.

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Chapter 41: Collateral

Akira stepped under the roof of a local store to take shelter, shaking off the damp chill that clung to her. She folded her umbrella and placed it into the designated rack, eyes staring at the shower that was pouring nonstop since morning.

She wasn’t alone.

Across from her, Marude exhaled, as if trying to decide where to begin. This was the first time she had seen the Director of the TSC meet her in person, and if that weren’t strange enough, he had chosen to dress like a tourist on vacation—a fishing hat, a garish Hawaiian shirt, and utility shorts. It was the kind of disguise that drew attention rather than deflecting it. She questioned his choices, but it wasn’t her concern.

“Not happy to see me, Mado?”

Despite his ridiculous attire, the man was deep in thought, and his voice carried the weight of someone who had rehearsed this conversation long before it ever started.

Akira stood her ground, arms crossed, weight shifted slightly to one side—a stance that was both defensive and unimpressed. She didn’t understand the need for secrecy, but if Marude had gone through the trouble of arranging this meeting, it had better be worth her time.

There was a reason she kept her distance from people in her past. Nothing good ever came from it.

“Your middleman… His name is Fujimine?”

Akira’s eyes narrowed just a fraction as she finally turned to face him squarely. She had expected him to be direct, but hearing that name from his mouth put her on immediate guard. Fujimine wasn’t the type to fall under Marude’s radar. Either Marude had been digging, or he had hired Fujimine himself. Given that Fujimine swore loyalty only to money, she shouldn’t be surprised at all.

“What is this about?” she asked, her voice sharp—like a blade drawn just enough from its sheath to warn rather than strike.

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Chapter 39: I Shall Leave Everything to You

Amon stepped steadily onto the engawa, the wooden boards cool beneath his feet. The night air clung to him, carrying the lingering scent of fresh tatami and the faint wisp of incense from the evening’s ceremony. As he made his way back to his room, the amber light spilling through the shoji cast long, wavering shadows across the hallway.

His breath caught as he reached the threshold. For a moment, he thought he had gone to the wrong room. 

His May Bride, sitting on the tatami, her back to him. Her white gown, a cascade of silk and embroidery, pooled across the floor like a river of light, its delicate folds catching the glow of the paper lanterns. She was facing the low mirror, removing her earrings with practiced ease.

She hadn’t noticed him. Not yet.

It struck him soon that they had moved the kids one level up and repartitioned the space.

Just for them both.

Amon hesitated, his fingers tightening slightly at his sides before he quietly slid the shoji shut behind him. The sound, subtle but final, made her pause.

Through the reflection in the mirror, her gaze lifted, meeting his. Her fingers stilled on the clasp of her remaining earring.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, voice quiet, undisturbed. The first earring slipped from her fingers onto the lacquered tray with a soft clink. Her movements were steady, practiced, as if this was just another evening, just another moment in the countless ones they had shared.

Amon swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

He had seen her in so many ways before: her joy, her tears. Even when exhausted, her shoulders squared, her head held high at the world threatening to crush her. But nothing had ever struck him like this.

She was entirely here, in the space that was once his and now theirs.

Akira shifted slightly, the silk of her gown whispering as it slipped, revealing the bare curve of her shoulder. The warm glow of the lantern traced the shape of her, gold against ivory.

He said nothing, hand loosening the bow tie around his neck, slowly getting closer until he was standing beside her. Until his towering shadow invaded the edges of her awareness.

He finally had her attention.

Her fingers, mid-motion, hesitated at the last pin in her hair. For a second, she was still, but she eventually willed herself to pull it free. Her blonde waves tumbled down, spilling over her shoulders in loose strands.

He cast the bow tie aside, watching her, remembering the first time she made his heart skip. 

She stood up. Her scent, warm and ever enticing, filled his lungs. It sent a pulse through his veins, hot and certain.

He wanted her now.

Without thinking, his hand found its way between her clavicles, pressing gently, urging her toward him.

He could feel her heartbeat. And his. They pounded in tandem, as if trying to break free from their ribs to meet each other.

Her eyes shimmered under the amber light, and he caught the faintest flush on her cheeks. He was certain that it wasn’t from the makeup.

Since he met her more than a decade ago, she had always been proud and confident. That blush on her—for him—was one that he had never seen before.

Or thought she could make. 

“You should shower,” she said abruptly, turning away.

He quickly held her still. His arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back to himself. 

She always took the lead. But not tonight.

Because he had waited too long.

He lowered his head to her. His breath brushed against her ear as he murmured, “Don’t get me wrong.” His voice was low and dangerous. 

“I may be patient…”

His fingers found the nylon lacing at her back. 

“But I am a man.”

He yanked the lacing free with a sharp zip. And the knot came undone with ease.

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An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Marude looked at them and, for a moment, questioned if time had slipped. If this was a memory rather than the present.

Because he had seen this before. A decade ago, in his office, when he summoned them. Back then, they had only just begun their partnership. The sight of them standing side by side, rigid and awkward, made him guffaw back then. But today, he made every effort to stifle it for the sake of the guests.

Even now, Marude thought they were an odd combination—like opposite forces thrown into the same orbit. And yet, standing here now, it seemed that oddity had been nothing short of a premonition of what stood before him today.

What a joke.

Marude huffed, shaking his head. “Kureo, are you watching this?” He muttered in his heart.

With a sigh, he cleared his throat and began the speech, following the ceremony as required. He watched as the couple exchanged vows and rings, their voices steady, their hands unwavering. But as the ritual stretched on, Marude’s patience began to wear thin.

“Oh, just kiss the bride already!” Marude muttered, loud enough for the front row to hear, as if he had given up entirely.

Photo by:

https://unsplash.com/photos/man-and-woman-holding-hands-focus-photo-464ps_nOflw?utm_content=creditShareLink&utm_medium=referral&utm_source=unsplash

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

WIP checkpoint!

reblog this with the last 3 sentences you wrote from your current WIP

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Marude swirled his chair back to face him, as he pressed an orange transparent pill bottle onto his desk, as if to make an impression on the wood.

Shinohara picked it up, eyes focusing on the single pill inside.

“Listen, Shinohara. What you are about to hear is top-secret.”

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When you watch an anime and find a man learning that his late mentor had a daughter, you know how the story goes. 😏😏😏

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Chapter 36: From the Bottom of My Heart

He adjusted his cuff, though there was nothing wrong with it. His hands were steady, but a familiar tension coiled in his chest, the same kind that had once gripped him before stepping into battle. He had fought ghouls, fought humans, fought himself—yet he let a bowtie choke him?

Amon exhaled, lifting his gaze to meet his own reflection. His eyes, sharper than they had once been, traced the lines of his face. He did not look like the young investigator he had once been, nor the hotblooded man who had thrown himself into war.

He looked like a man who had finally made it through. His future with a lovely lady awaited.

A quiet sound at the door. A pause.

“Are you done yet? There’s hell lot of guests out there.”

Hikari stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his expression one of exasperated patience—the kind only a son could have for his father.

Amon turned, the faintest curve at the corner of his lips. Even his eldest son looked exceptionally mature in his best-man suit.

“Yeah,” Amon said. “I am.”

Just as he spoke, his gaze drifted past Hikari—to an unexpected guest standing behind him.

“Investigator Gori…”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950154/chapters/163236658

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Chapter 32: Finding Amon

A small sound tore from his throat, frustration curling in his gut like a tightening vice. He wiped his palm against his thigh, trying to get rid of the sweat slicking his skin. The phone was still ringing. His body swayed slightly, as if the weight of his fear was physically pressing down on him.

Amon was alone. Fighting because of him. What if he didn’t come back?

The ringing stopped.

“Hello?” A groggy voice answered, thick with sleep.

“Emily?”

“Hikari?” Emily instantly awakened, her voice sharp with concern. “Why didn’t you text me back?”

“Not now Emily! Listen. Get Akira, okay? Amon’s in trouble.”

“What?” The sleepiness was quickly replaced with panic.

“No time! Just do it!” Hikari’s words were tight, forced. His voice cracked on the last syllable as fear clawed at his throat.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950154/chapters/162008233

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Chapter 31: A Taste of Freedom

Before Hikari could process what had just happened, a dark figure descended between them, landing soundlessly despite the weight of his presence. Amon stood tall, draped in a heavy black robe, his silhouette stark against the dim glow of the streetlights. The grip on his weapon was firm, unwavering.

"Run," Amon ordered, his voice quiet but carrying the weight of something absolute.

Hikari felt the command sink into his bones. His body tensed, instinct screaming at him to listen, to move—but his feet refused, rooted in place by the sheer disbelief of the moment.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950154/chapters/161589361

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Chapter 30: Coming of Age

“Help me?” His voice was sharp, almost bitter. His gaze locked onto Amon, searching—challenging. “You can’t even protect the one you love.”

“What you’ve said is right.” Amon didn’t flinch, didn’t try to refute it. His voice remained calm, steady—too steady. As if he had already made peace with his failure long before this moment. “And I will use the rest of my life to make up for her.”

The quiet determination in his words made Hikari’s stomach twist. He hated it. 

“You don’t need to face everything alone.”

The words weren’t dramatic or forceful. Amon wasn’t trying to convince him of anything. He simply said it—like it was the most natural truth in the world.

Hikari exhaled sharply, shaking his head. Liar. “Just stop.” He didn’t need this. He didn’t need Amon looking at him like that, like he actually mattered. He had survived just fine without it.

“I want to be there for you, be part of your life.”

“Go away…” He had heard it all.

“Hikari—”

“You’re not my father!”

The words came out like a gunshot, sharp and raw, before he could stop them.

Amon froze. His fingers slipped from the doorframe.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22950154/chapters/161557447