𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 // Akaza x reader (+18)

Chapter 31 | Burn together

The journey through the forest stretches on for what feels like days, though you have no way of knowing for sure.
Time has become a blur of aching muscles, whispered winds, and the constant pressure of Akaza's presence looming over you.

The further you get from the battlefield, the heavier the weight of the lie settles on your chest. Every step, every breath, feels more fragile than the last.

Akaza shows no sign of slowing down. His pace is relentless, as though he's untouchable by the exhaustion that creeps into your bones. You, on the other hand, can hardly keep up. Even though you're strong, you're not a demon, and the pain in your body is becoming unbearable. Twice, you stumble, once nearly falling face-first into the dirt. Without a word, Akaza simply reaches down and hoists you up, his grip firm as he lifts you without breaking stride.

"You're slower than I thought," he mutters under his breath, but there's no real malice in his tone.
It's almost clinical, as if he's assessing your limits. His eyes, however, flick to you now and then, calculating, watching, as if trying to figure out how far you can push yourself before you break.

The silence between you is suffocating. Neither of you dares to speak much.
You both know that what you're doing-this precarious dance of deception-is incredibly dangerous, and it's only a matter of time before everything unravels. The quiet is filled with unspoken tension, a constant reminder that you're walking a knife's edge. Every moment you remain in Akaza's company feels like a betrayal, but it's the only choice you have for now.

The forest around you has changed. The trees have grown sparse, and the once-thick canopy now gives way to jagged rock formations and a vast mountainside. The air is colder here, carrying the scent of stone and salt, a reminder that you're nearing the edge of the world you knew. The ground beneath your feet is uneven, and the steep slopes make travel more difficult.

Eventually, you spot it: A hut, small and weathered, standing between trees ahead.
The roof is sagging, the walls overgrown with vines, but it offers shelter. It's an old, abandoned place, but at least it's a roof over your head, a brief respite from the endless journey and protection from the sun light.

Akaza steps toward the hut without a glance back, his steps steady, purposeful. His eyes scan the surroundings, ever vigilant, though the tension in his shoulders betrays the exhaustion he won't show.

He's not here for comfort, but for survival. And yet, the moment he reaches the door, he hesitates, just briefly, before pushing it open.

You stand behind him, barely able to keep up, but you're not sure what you're waiting for. You've been walking this path with him, a silent alliance, each of you pretending that you're not bound by the fragile thread of something more than survival.

The pain in your body nags at you, but the ache in your heart is heavier. It's an ache that no amount of rest will ease.

You take a slow step forward, each movement reluctant, as if the space between you both could still hold something unspoken. Finally, you step into the hut behind him, and the door creaks shut, sealing you both in with the noises of waking birds.

There's not much inside the hut and it smells of wet wood. A futon lays next to shredded fabric and rusty tableware.
You wonder who lived here.

Akaza sits down on the only chair there is and leans against one of the wooden beams, and for a moment, the two of you are simply there. Existing in the same space.

Neither of you speaks. But the weight of the unspoken hangs heavy.

And then, when you can't bear the silence any longer, you break it. "Why are you helping me?"

Akaza doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he looks at you-really looks at you, his gaze flicking over your face, calculating, as always. But this time, there's something else in his eyes. Something familiar.

"Because you're still useful," he finally says, his voice low, measured.

But there's something in the way he says it, something almost... gentle. It's an admission of sorts, buried beneath his usual coldness.

You don't reply right away. The silence between you feels different now, less suffocating, even though the truth remains elusive. You're both here, together, but apart in ways neither of you can admit.

Both of you are tired-physically, emotionally-and yet, there's a connection in this silence. A shared understanding that neither of you is willing to acknowledge.

In the dim light, Akaza's gaze shifts slightly, almost imperceptibly,

You swallow, shifting slightly. "What happens when I'm no longer useful?"

Akaza's gaze sharpens, his smile gone as quickly as it appeared. The moment hangs between you like a breath held too long, a question unspoken yet perfectly understood.

"You think I'll let you go?"
His voice is quiet but dangerous, low and almost amused, as though the idea itself amuses him.
"You should know by now, you're not leaving until I say you do."

And there it is.

For a moment, neither of you moves. The room feels smaller now, the walls closing in with the realization that even if you both want to leave, neither of you can.

You finally break the silence again, quieter this time, almost to yourself. "What happens when all of this unravels?"

Akaza looks at you, his eyes unreadable, his lips pressing into a thin line.
For a moment, you wonder if he's going to tell you that it doesn't matter, that none of this is real, that it's all a game to him.

But instead, his voice is low, softer than before, a strange gentleness hiding beneath the words.

"Then we'll burn together."

His eyes meet yours then, and for the first time, there's something almost... vulnerable in them. A flicker of understanding, a shared acceptance of the inevitable, however dark it may be. You don't know if that's comforting or terrifying.