Survival in Akame ga kill

Inside the dilapidated chapel, two figures stood near the entrance—a beautiful woman with blood smeared across her delicate features and a masked figure, locked in deadly silence. 

The woman’s dainty hands gripped the crossbars of a Katar that was embedded deep into the masked figure's neck. Her eyes glimmered with sadistic glee as her wide, maniacal grin stretched across her blood-splattered face.

The Katar pulsed with lethal intent, ready to end Bane’s life, its blade digging deeper into his throat.

“Well, well~,” she purred, her voice coated with dark amusement. “What a catch I’ve made today. I never expected to find something this fascinating, instead of the usual boring bugs I squash.”

Her grin widened as she leaned closer to Bane’s face, her eyes examining the cracks in his worn and shattered mask.

“How touching~,” she mockingly remarked, “I almost believed you were heartless a moment ago, but the Spectator’s illusion revealed otherwise. You still remembered your dear mother.”

“Say Night Raider, did it hurt, seeing her like that again?” She whispered the last words with cruel tenderness, her voice dripping with malice.

A twisted giggle escaped her lips. “It’s always such a delight when people fall for it, time and time again,” she mused. “The despair on their faces when they see their most beloved person stab them—it’s truly priceless.”

As she finished speaking, a mist began to envelop her figure, her form distorting and shifting until it dissolved entirely. In her place stood a towering, muscular man with cold, blue eyes and short blonde hair, his wide, wicked grin stretching unnaturally across his face.

The man gave Bane a sweetly twisted smile, his voice dripping with cruel intent. “Let me get a good look at you, Night Raider,” he said in a low, predatory tone. 

The green eye on the headband of his head glowed as it inspected Bane, peering into him as though it could strip away every layer of his soul.

“A young man with quite the history with the Empire, I see. The condition of your face is not normal. What a mess you are, Night Raider,” Zanku mused, his voice thick with amusement.

“Oh, where are my manners? I forgot to introduce myself,” Zanku said, his grin never faltering. “I am Zanku, once the Empire’s finest executioner.”

Zanku’s cold eyes flickered to the bodies littered across the ruined church, a sight that would turn the stomach of any normal man. But not him. Zanku had seen worse—caused worse.

“It’s a shame, really,” Zanku sighed, looking back at Bane. “We could’ve had a wonderful conversation about our shared profession—executioners, killers, haunted by the voices of those we’ve killed. But like you, I’m running short on time.”

With a cruel chuckle, Zanku gestured to the headpiece he wore. “You see, like you, I’m also fleeing from the Empire’s subjugation squads after stealing Spectator.”

“Though,” he added with a twisted laugh, “I’d say my situation is far better than yours. I don’t have an entire battalion of soldiers chasing my ass, unlike you Night Raiders.”

Zanku’s grin widened as he raised his other hand toward Bane’s neck, preparing to finish him off. “But enough talk. I’ll claim my prize now. Let’s see what your face looks like before I add your head to my collection.”

Swish.

Zanku moved his blade in order to slice through Bane’s throat, but a shift in the air made him pause. 

Instinctively, Zanku stepped back and, in one swift motion, kicked Bane across the church, sending him skidding across the cold stone floor.

“Hah… hah!” Zanku panted, his heart racing. His coat sleeves were shredded, and his flesh was torn, deep claw marks gouged into his arm. 

Drip

Blood dripped steadily onto the floor from the open wounds, pooling at his feet.

Despite the sharp, searing pain, Zanku’s grin remained, even as his breath became ragged. His eyes flickered toward Bane, now lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood.

Slowly, the masked figure stirred as he sat up, his hand calmly reaching for the Katar lodged in his neck. 

Shikk

With a casual pull, he yanked the blade free and tossed it aside. The wound gushed blood, but in a matter of moments, it started to heal, with the flesh repairing itself.

Zanku’s grin faltered as he watched in stunned silence. His nerves tensed as the unsettling sight unfolded before him.

“You…” Zanku whispered, his voice a mixture of pain and disbelief. “You’re a Teigu user!”

“Of course I am,” Bane replied, not correcting Zanku’s misunderstanding. He coughed up a bit of blood. 

He stretched his neck, as though waking from a long rest. “So, you’re the serial killer I’ve heard rumours about. The one decapitating people in the capital, correct?”

As Bane rose to his feet, his gaze locked onto Zanku’s. “I’ve heard of your alias —‘Slasher,’ was it? An executioner who killed his warden and stole a Teigu.”

Bane’s eyes narrowed on the green glowing eye fixed to Zanku’s headpiece. “That’s Spectator, I presume. Quite a powerful Teigu. Mental illusions, showing people what they desire most, then the ability to see through walls—like you did with my mask. And finally, insight. Reading my actions, predicting my next moves.”

Zanku’s grin wavered as Bane listed off the abilities of his teigu, his eyes widening in shock.

“Wait…” Zanku muttered, realisation dawned on him. “So you weren’t really affected by the illusion? You just played along to lower my guard?”

Bane cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the stillness of the chapel. “It was both, really. I was inside the illusion but was aware something was off from the start,” he said coolly. 

He pointed, “Someone who can walk among all these corpses without flinching, not showing a single shred of fear? It was obvious you weren’t here by chance.”

Zanku’s breathing steadied, his grin slowly returning. “Agreeable,” he said with a nod. His eyes flickered toward the black and green gauntlets that now encased Bane’s arms.

“So… that’s your Teigu,” Zanku murmured, his voice tense with curiosity. “I was careless. I thought you were unarmed, but I should’ve known better.”

Bane watched him in silence, his gaze unwavering.

"And what a Teigu is it?," Zanku continued with a strained laugh. "I've never seen one that grants regeneration along with  summonable gauntlets. Is the belt you wore earlier the medium to summon those gauntlets?"

Bane’s cold eyes remained locked on Zanku. “Why would I tell you that? We’re enemies, aren’t we?”

Zanku let out a short laugh, though the pain from his torn arm made it strained. “Fair enough, Night Raider. But think about it—do you really want to keep fighting me? The Empire’s soldiers could arrive at any moment, and we’ll both be caught.”

His tone shifted, dropping lower and more conspiratorial. “We can both escape. Or we can die here, together.”

Bane’s response was calm “Why should I trust you, Slasher? We’ve both spilled too much blood to believe in something like that.”

Zanku’s grin returned, but the tension between them thickened. “You’re not wrong, Night Raider. But if we keep going, neither of us will live to see tomorrow.”

Both men stood still, the air thick with anticipation. Blood continued to drip from Zanku’s arm, mixing with the carnage already present. They both knew escape might be an option—but only for one.