Fate: Kill

Chapter 51

"How boring," Champ muttered in reply, his gaze glaring at Akame with contempt. "She's not to my – oh."

Champa's gaze suddenly lingered on Kurome, something no one failed to miss.

"Champa," Syura warned, knowing full well that Champ was a deviant that preyed on children to preserve their 'beauty,' before maturity.

The way Champ was looking at Kurome's undeveloped physique was revolting, but Syura wasn't stupid. Why make enemies before completing his revenge?

The way Syura was glaring at Shirou made it clear that he would never give Shirou a peaceful end.

Syura had already lost his legs and an arm, and was surviving by virtue of his tenacity and anger. Doreothea could fix his missing limbs, or even Doctor Stylish. He was held by Izou, and only maintained order as Wild Hunt's leader by virtue of his Teigu which could let them all escape at a moment's notice.

Syura glared at Wave and Kurome, veins popping over his temples. "We meet again, you fucking cowards! I should kill you both, but how about it? Stand down and we could put our differences aside?"

Right now, what Syura wanted more than Kurome and Wave was Shirou. With Shirou's death at his hands, perhaps he'd finally make his father proud of him.

Kurome and Wave getting in the way would only make things take longer than necessary.

Wave stepped forward, donning a suit of black armour. However, he didn't attack, glancing at Kurome and waiting to see what she'd decide on.

"You don't want this fight." Syura hardened his voice, expression twisting into a menacing scowl. "Or do you really think my old man's dead?!"

Kurome shivered, her pupils dilating from childhood trauma.

"Kurome, please! I'm not lying! Honest is dead!" Akame for once decided to plead with her sister, but the thing about trauma was that it was never easy to recover from.

Kurome couldn't meet Akame's eyes and ultimately glanced away with a pale face, and horse breath. Wave, in contrast, balled his hands into fists at the sight.

"Good choice, bitch." Syura let out a grin of triumph. "Enshin, finish the woman. The bastard over there's mine."

Enshin licked his lips, drawing out his sword. "My pleasure. Her eyes look stubborn, but her body is more honest. I can tell. She can barely lift up her own sword."

Akame flinched, unable to refute.

"Akame-"

"I won't run." Akame cut Shirou off again.

Squaring her shoulders, Akame put her remaining strength in keeping her form and balance. A single cut was all that she needed, but the chance wouldn't come.

Air blades formed and launched towards her, and it took all she had to deflect or dodge them. Her sword rattled on impact, numbness spreading down her arms from the collision and aggravating the wound at her core. The hasty bandages she'd wound around her chest were gradually soaked red as dried blood and scabs were torn back open.

Defense wasn't going to work.

Gnashing her teeth, she dashed in for a chance at even vain hope. Lifting her sword, she deflected an air blade aimed at her neck, before twisting her body to the right to avoid another sword. Her wounds tore even further open from the extraneous movement, her feet giving out even before she reached Enshin.

She stumbled for a second, and was left vulnerable.

Enshin skillfully cut her wrist holding Murasame, her fingers losing the strength to curl, and her sword clattering to the ground.