Chapter 35 : Echoes on the Rooftop and the Rider's Evolution

The morning after the failed capture attempt, the air inside Ryukyu's agency was heavy and tense. We all gathered in the main operations room for the morning briefing, but there was none of the usual light chatter or joking. The face of everyone, from the professional sidekicks to us interns, showed the same seriousness. Last night's failure wasn't just a failure; it was a humbling lesson. We had come face-to-face with a ghost, and the ghost had won.

Ryukyu stood before us, her posture as straight and calm as ever, but I could see the tension in her shoulders. She played the security footage from the rooftop on the main screen. We all watched in silence as the dark figure of Akame moved with almost unbelievable speed, evading traps, and then vanished in a puff of smoke in the blink of an eye. The footage was played again and again, slowed down, but her movements remained fluid and almost unnatural.

"She knew we were there," Ryukyu said, her voice breaking the silence. "She sensed our presence before we even moved to intercept. Her perceptual senses are on a completely different level." She looked at her team. "All of your reports are the same. She left no trace of Quirk energy, no residue, nothing. She moved like lightning, and then she was gone."

"Is it possible it was a teleportation Quirk?" Uraraka asked, her voice a little hesitant.

"No," Tsuyu answered calmly. "If it were teleportation, there would be a sound or a visual distortion, no matter how small, kero. This was more like... she blended with the shadows. Pure speed and stealth."

Nejire, who had been quiet all this time, finally spoke, her usual curiosity now colored with a warrior's admiration. "Every step she took had a purpose! She didn't waste a single movement! When she landed, she was already in position to jump again. When she threw the smoke bomb, her hand was already moving to disappear. Her efficiency... it's terrifying."

Ryukyu nodded in agreement, then her eyes shifted to me. The entire room seemed to follow her gaze. I felt the pressure of their stares. "Your prediction was one hundred percent accurate, Tatsumi-kun," she said. "That goes beyond a hunch or a simple deduction. It's almost as if you know her, or at least, you recognize her methods."

The question hung in the air, sharp and demanding. I felt cold sweat begin to form on my temples. I had to be careful.

"I... I just tried to put myself in her position," I said, choosing my words with extreme care. "If I were an assassin working alone against powerful criminal organizations, I would be paranoid. I would assume every job was a trap. I would prioritize escape routes above all else. And I would choose the 'vilest' targets, those whose crimes the law couldn't touch, to justify my own actions. Hayato Tanaka, 'The Collector,' fit that profile perfectly."

My explanation was logical. It made sense. But I could see in Ryukyu's eyes that she knew there was more, something I wasn't telling her. However, she was a professional. She didn't press me further in front of the others. "A fine analysis," she said, ending the topic for now. "But it doesn't change the fact that we are now back at square one. She knows we're on to her. She will likely go to ground or change her pattern."

After the meeting, Ryukyu asked me to stay behind while the others began their duties. When we were alone in the room, she looked at me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "I won't ask where you get your insight, Tatsumi-kun. But I know it's more than just 'analysis.' Whatever its source, it makes you an invaluable asset, but it also puts you in danger."

She walked toward me. "That killer, this 'Ghost,' she is fast. Incredibly fast. I could barely keep up with her myself. If you were to face her, you would have no time to think. You would have no time to feel the pain of your armor's manifestation. Your reflexes must become one with your power." She gestured for me to follow her. "Come. Your training must be accelerated."

We returned to Training Room Gamma. But this time, the atmosphere was different. There was no more patience or slow, meditative approaches. This was pure combat training. Ryukyu activated a series of advanced training drones that hovered around the room.

"These drones are programmed to fire non-lethal energy pellets," she explained. "They will fire randomly from all directions. Your job is not to dodge. Your job is to block every single shot. Manifest the armor on the part of your body that is about to be hit, just before the attack lands. Train your reflexes until they become instinct."

"BEGIN!"

Instantly, the room was filled with a whizzing sound as blue energy pellets shot toward me. The first came from the front, aiming at my chest. I focused, trying to summon the chest plate. But I was too slow. The pellet hit me, delivering a painful electric jolt that made me stagger.

"Too slow!" Ryukyu yelled. "Don't think! Feel!"

Another drone fired from the side, aiming for my left shoulder. I tried to call the shoulder pauldron, but only a black spark appeared before the pellet hit me. The pain became my motivation. I gritted my teeth, ignoring the stings, and focused my mind. I began to feel the pattern of the drone attacks, to anticipate the direction of the shots.

'Left!' my mind screamed. The left gauntlet of Incursio formed just in time to bat a pellet away. 'Low!' The right leg guard appeared to block a low attack. 'Behind!' I felt a heat on my back as an armor plate formed, blocking a shot I hadn't seen.

It was an excruciating and exhausting process. Each manifestation still brought a wave of pain, and doing it repeatedly at high speed was draining my stamina completely. But I could feel it. I was getting faster. The time between my intent and the physical manifestation of the armor was getting shorter and shorter. My body, pushed by my passive healing, was beginning to adapt to this rapid cycle of pain and recovery.

After what felt like an eternity, I managed to reach a state where I barely had to think. My movements became fluid. A pellet shot toward my head. Unconsciously, I felt the draconic helmet of Incursio form completely, deflecting the shot with a clang, then vanishing again in an instant. I had reached a new level of control: reactive, near-instantaneous partial manifestation. I fell to my knees, gasping for air, my body drenched in sweat and trembling from exhaustion, but a satisfied smile was etched on my face.

That evening, our team gathered again in the operations room. We had hit a dead end. No new leads. No way to predict the killer's next target.

"We keep focusing on who she'll attack," Uraraka said, sounding frustrated as she stared at the data board. "What if... what if we try to figure out where she comes from?"

Her words were like a spark in my mind. It was an opportunity. A way to guide them onto the right path without revealing my secret. "She's right," I said, trying to make my voice sound as if I'd just had an idea. "An assassin with this level of skill doesn't just appear out of thin air. She had to be trained. Heavily trained. This isn't a newly emerged Quirk; this is a skillset honed over years, maybe since childhood." I paused, letting them digest the implication. "We're not looking for a common criminal who got powers. We're probably looking for a graduate of... an assassin's guild or clan."

Nejire, who had been floating upside down while reading a report, suddenly stopped. Her eyes widened. "An assassin's guild!" she exclaimed, shooting upright. "There are rumors like that in the underworld! Ghost stories villains tell to scare each other. About ancient clans that have existed since before the age of heroes, who take on contracts to 'clean up' problems. Most heroes dismiss it as superstition, but..."

"But it fits our perpetrator's profile," Ryukyu continued, finishing Nejire's sentence. Her face held a grave expression. "A highly trained agent from a secret organization. That explains her skill, her discipline, and her silence." She looked at me with a new gaze. "That was a brilliant leap of logic, Tatsumi-kun."

The focus of our investigation changed instantly. We were no longer just looking at a list of potential targets. We began to dig deeper, reopening old, unsolved cases that had the hallmarks of a professional execution, looking for a common thread that could lead to a hidden organization.

That night, I couldn't sleep. I returned to the quiet operations room, accompanied by the faint hum of the computer servers. I scrolled through cold case databases, dusty digital files. Most of it was fruitless. But then, I found it. A small file from over a decade ago. A case about a failed assassination attempt on a corrupt politician. The report mentioned two perpetrators, both described as "highly trained children." One was captured, while the other, a young girl with black hair, escaped.

I read the interrogation transcript of the captured perpetrator. He died a few hours later from "internal complications," likely a remotely activated poison. Before he died, in his delirium, he just kept muttering one word over and over.

I zoomed in on the word on the screen. My eyes were glued to it, and a familiar chill ran down my spine. There, in cold, digital katakana, was the name that had been haunting my thoughts.

Yozakura.

I had found it. The name of the clan. I was one step closer to finding Akame. And I had a very bad feeling that I would find her sooner than I thought.