AKAME ASSASINATION (69)
"What?"
"I'll repeat the question." Nina cleared her throat with theatrical delicacy, the pixels on her face forming a perfectly innocent smile. "What cup size do you prefer?"
Gil stared at her.
The world had ended. Buildings had collapsed. Men were fighting at speeds that defied physics. And this woman—this absurd, impossible woman—was asking him about breast sizes.
Nothing in his eighteen years of existence could have prepared him for this moment.
They stared at each other for a long, suspended beat. The dust settled around them. Somewhere in the distance, another shockwave rippled through the city.
"Fine," Nina sighed, the emoji on her screen rolling its eyes heavenward. "I'll rephrase. Do you like ass or titties?"
"That question isn't better." Gil coughed, blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth. He was actively dying, and somehow he'd found the strength to argue with her about the semantic quality of her interrogation.
"Come on." She dropped into a squat beside him, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial purr. "What is it you like in a woman? Where do your eyes drift first when you see them?"
"... "
Gil wasn't particularly fond of women. Not in that way. As an altar boy—a role that felt like another lifetime now—he'd been taught to abstain from such thoughts. Sexual desire was a weakness. A distraction. Something to be locked away and never examined.
But he wasn't an altar boy anymore, was he?
He sat with the question, letting it settle into his pain-fogged mind. 'This entire time,' he realized, 'all I've been doing is fighting. Thinking about getting stronger. Building toward something.' His gaze drifted inward. 'Not to mention, most of my opponents have been women.'
Jericho. Jessica. Now Nina. Each battle had been exactly that—a battle. Nothing more. He'd never stopped to consider the people behind the fists.
But now that he thought about it... there was a common denominator. A pattern he'd never noticed.
"I guess," Gil said slowly, the admission feeling strange on his tongue, "I like breasts."
"Oh." Nina's screen displayed a delighted, widening grin. "Now we're getting somewhere. So—what cup size?"
"What's that?"
".... "
The emoji on her face went completely blank. Just a flat, gray screen. For a moment, Gil wondered if he'd broken her.
Then she recovered. Of course she recovered. She was Nina Blight.
She slid an arm around his shoulders with the casual intimacy of an old friend, pulling him close despite the blood and dust. "Okay then. Tell me—and be honest. Do you like big? Or small?"
"Umm..." Gil sniffed, blood still dripping steadily from his nose. The pain was immense, but somehow this conversation was more disorienting. "I mean, if I had to pick... I guess I'd prefer them... somewhat big?"
"As big as mine?" She tilted her head, the emoji winking. "Or bigger?"
"I don't... I don't know how big yours are, so..."
Nina grabbed his right hand.
SQUISH.
She placed it directly on her chest.
Gil's brain short-circuited.
They were—unexpectedly—extremely soft. Incredibly squishy. He wasn't sure what he'd expected them to feel like—some abstract concept of "breasts" that existed only in distant imagination—but the reality was warm and yielding and utterly, paralyzingly real.
SQUISH.
He squeezed again. Reflex. Curiosity. His face remained completely blank.
"I guess," he said, his voice eerily calm, "a bit bigger than yours."
YAAAAAAAY!
The emoji on her face exploded into a shower of sparkling hearts and stars. She actually bounced.
"I knew I'd like you!" Nina tightened the arm around his shoulder and grabbed his jaw with her other hand, turning his face toward hers. "Honestly? I don't really like most men. They're cucks and perverts. But you—" She shook him slightly. "You seem really calm. Even after I let you fondle my boobs."
"Maybe," Gil said, still utterly blank-faced, "it's because I don't really find you attractive."
OUCH.
Her grip on his jaw tightened. The emoji switched to narrowed, dangerous eyes.
"Now, now," she said, her voice dropping to something sharp and amused, "let's not jump to conclusions here."
She held his gaze for a long moment.
"I'll let that comment slide. I'm trying to say—you're objective. You know what you want. And you're not flustered by... distractions." The emoji softened into something almost approving. "I think we'll get along."
SQUISH.
"You can let go now," she added.
"Oh." Gil blinked, looking down at his hand, still planted firmly on her chest. "My fault."
He let go and stared off into the distance, his expression unchanged, as if he'd just been asked to consider a mildly interesting philosophical problem.
AHEM.
Nina cleared her throat, rising to her feet and brushing dust from her cloak. The playful energy shifted—not gone, but focused. Channeled.
"Now for my real offer."
She walked a few paces away, her back turned, giving him the kind of deliberate space that invited trust. Or at least, the illusion of it.
"My cousin wants you. Donovan—the one who fought your friend's void-beast. He never says that about anyone. Claims your skills are 'simply amazing.' And I've seen it myself." She glanced back, the emoji on her face a simple, unblinking eye. "You defeated my niece. Jessica doesn't lose to amateurs."
The smoke golem in the corner stirred, lifting Jessica's unconscious body in massive, gentle hands.
"So I'll ask you directly." Nina turned fully, arms crossed beneath her cloak. "How would you like to join the Blight Household?"
"Join?"
She nodded. "It's a sacred house. One of the oldest. Most people can't get in even with government backing. And honestly?" A shrug. "We've been running out of members lately."
"I don't really understand what that means." But even as he said it, Gil was calculating. The woman before him was a vixen—a cunning fox with power that hummed beneath her playful surface. She was strong. And if the Blight Household could offer that kind of strength...
'Metaphorical strength,' Akame's voice echoed in his memory, 'the strength of conviction… that's not something I can teach you. It's a path you walk alone.'
Was that the strength he truly needed? Or was he about to trade one teacher for another?
"I assume you're aligned with Saikyo Akame." Nina's voice cut through his thoughts. "Meaning you're on the run with him. The Blight Household has been commissioned to hunt him down." She paused, letting the weight settle. "If you join... you'll have to do it too."
The question hung in the air between them.
Would he be alright with that? For the sake of power?
He didn't owe anyone anything. That was the brutal truth of survival. And yet—he had a conviction. A tether to something he owed nothing. Was it pride? Gratitude? Something deeper he hadn't yet found words for?
"I'll have to say no to that," Gil said.
Nina's screen flickered—genuine surprise breaking through the performance.
"Seriously?" She squatted down again, bringing herself to his level, genuinely curious now. "What is it with people and being obsessed with Akame? I don't get it. Enlighten me."
Gil took a breath. The words felt heavy, but they also felt true.
"I don't know either, maybe..." He paused, gathering himself. "Maybe it's because I'd feel bad backstabbing him. Even though he and Mr. Blake saved my entire village."
He looked down at his hands—bloody, shaking, but still his.
"Before now, I haven't really been winning all that much. I've been saved multiple times by different people. Which I guess means I still have so much to learn." A weak laugh escaped him. "Maybe it would be easier to move on. Find someone else to teach me. Mr. Akame hasn't really taught me all that much, honestly. Mr. Blake and Mr. Koji are my actual teachers."
He met her eyes—or rather, her screen—with a clarity that surprised even himself.
"But even then... I feel like I've learned more from the little he's said—just words—than from anyone else."
'What else? You talk like you owe him your life. If you're going to dedicate your entire existence to someone else's vision, you're not a disciple. You're a slave.'
Jessica's accusation surfaced in his memory. He'd understood it at the time. But now...
'I think she was wrong. In a way.'
'I don't know much about her brother. But I do know this—I do owe him my life. Right now, I'd be rotting away in that village. Afraid of another bishop coming to take over. Juggling how to control a power I'd eventually lose.'
'Thanks to him, I traveled outside. Met new teachers. Learned more in weeks than in years.'
'In short...'
"Because that guy saved me." Gil said it simply. Quietly. Like stating the color of the sky or the fact that the sun would rise.
There was no argument to that. No negotiation. It just was.
Nina stared at him for a long moment. The emoji on her face flickered through several options—surprise, contemplation, something almost like respect—before settling on a simple, neutral expression.
"I really thought I could convince you," she said.
She reached into her back pocket.
"I'm going to have to kill you now."
Gil took a deep breath.
And in that breath, everything clicked.
'That's it.' The realization hit him like a lightning strike—not painful, but illuminating. 'They were both saying the same thing. Jessica. Nina. They were both asking the same question.'
'He doesn't need me to keep wanting to be like him.'
'All he needs is for me to grow stronger through my own conviction. If I ever want to be his equal—or anyone's equal—it has to come from me.'
'It was never about physical strength. It was about what my conviction was tied to.'
He stood up.
His body screamed in protest. His vision swam. Blood dripped from a dozen wounds.
But he stood.
And he smiled—a small, genuine, utterly defiant thing.
"Bring it on, then."
THE PRIDE OF A STUDENT FOR HIS TEACHER!
TO BE CONTINUED!