Chapter 166 : Learning to Fall

The next morning, Tatsumi's enthusiasm to continue his flight training was met with Akame's brutal and uncompromising methods. She didn't take him to the flat training arena, but to the edge of a steep cliff at the end of the villa's property, where foamy waves crashed against sharp rocks below. The sea breeze blew strong, carrying the scent of salt and challenge.

"Your target is that large rock over there," Akame said, pointing to a sea stack that stood firm about a hundred meters from the cliff's edge. "Fly there, touch its peak, and come back. Now."

Before Tatsumi could protest or even prepare himself, a strong push from Akame sent him off balance. The world seemed to flip as he fell from the cliff.

Instinct took over. Panic coursed through him. "INCURSIO!"

His armor formed in mid-air, and with a cry of frustration, he tried to manifest his wings. Energy exploded from his back, but in his panic, the form was imperfect. One wing was larger than the other, sending him spinning uncontrollably in the air like a falling leaf. He flapped desperately, not to fly forward, but just to slow his deadly descent.

He managed to avoid the sharp rocks and landed hard in the cold seawater, the impact sending a spray of water into the air. The saltwater that seeped into the gaps of his armor stung.

"Failure," Akame's voice came from the clifftop, unaffected by the wind. "Again."

For the next several hours, the process repeated. Akame would push him, he would fall, panic, and try to fly. Each attempt was slightly better than the last. He began to learn that it wasn't about the power of the flap, but about small, intuitive adjustments. Shifting his body weight slightly, changing the angle of his wings by a fraction of a degree, feeling the flow of the wind and not fighting it. This wasn't just activating an ability; it was an art, the art of survival by learning to fall.

In a cold, sterile meeting room at the headquarters of the Hero Public Safety Commission (HPSC), the atmosphere was tense. The Commission President, a middle-aged woman with a gaze as sharp as a knife, stared intently at her subordinates seated around a long table.

"Endeavor's report at the press conference was too vague," she said, her voice sharp. "A 'new villain organization' is not enough. I want names. I want affiliations. I want to know why an incident of this magnitude could happen right under our noses."

The officials glanced at each other nervously.

The President's gaze then settled on Hawks, who sat calmly, playing with one of his red feathers between his fingers. "Hawks. Your informant network is the best. The Paranormal Liberation Front has been too quiet lately. It's unnatural. I don't like this quiet."

"They're still licking their wounds after the Deika incident," Hawks replied in a casual tone, hiding his careful calculations. "And they're probably just as confused as we are about the 'Island Incident.' A power of that magnitude appearing out of nowhere makes everyone wary."

"I don't need wariness, I need results," the President cut in. "Find something we can use. I want to know what Shigaraki is planning next. Don't disappoint me."

Hawks simply nodded, a faint smile on his face. "Of course, Madam President. I always get you what you want." He felt the pressure from both sides, a dangerous game on a tightrope. He had to feed the Commission just enough information to keep them satisfied, without ever revealing the real pieces he was playing.

That evening, Tatsumi was sitting on the villa's terrace, letting the night breeze soothe his aching muscles. He could still feel the sensation of falling with every breath he took.

"Tough training, huh?"

Hawks emerged from the darkness, carrying two cans of soda. He tossed one to Tatsumi.

"Akame has a... direct teaching method," Tatsumi replied, catching the can.

"She's forging a weapon. And you are her most important one," Hawks said, sitting in the chair next to him. He gazed at the dark ocean. "Your flight ability isn't just for combat. Three-dimensional aerial mobility will completely change how we can infiltrate and attack."

He took a sip of his drink. "Your training is almost complete. Once you can reliably master flight, you will get your first mission as a ghost."

Tatsumi turned, his attention captured.

"A simple reconnaissance mission," Hawks continued. "There's a remote training camp in the mountains that we suspect is a PLF recruitment facility. No one can get close by land without being detected. But someone who can fly silently under the cover of night..."

This was it. A concrete goal. Not just endless training, but a real application. A chance to start fighting back.

Hawks looked at him, his expression more serious than usual. "You're carrying a burden that no kid your age should have to bear, kid. Make sure you don't lose yourself in the process."

Those words, a rare, sincere acknowledgment from the winged hero, touched something within Tatsumi.

After Hawks left, Tatsumi couldn't stay still. Driven by their conversation and the promise of a real mission, he returned to the cliff's edge. The night was calm, with only the sound of the waves as his background music.

He didn't wait for a push. This time, he had a clear purpose. He synthesized everything he had learned: The concept of rescue from Akame, endurance under pressure from Endeavor, and a tactical objective from Hawks. His goal: fly to that rock pillar and back.

He took a deep breath and leaped into the darkness.

The dragon wings sliced through the air, forming perfectly in an instant. The wind tried to push him, but this time he didn't fight it blindly. He dipped slightly, using the wind's momentum to propel him forward. He beat his wings with a strong, steady rhythm, every movement with purpose.

He shot across the dark water, his shadow splitting the moonlight's reflection on the sea's surface. He reached the rock pillar, touched its peak with the tip of his armored finger, then turned smoothly in mid-air. The journey back felt easier, more confident.

With a few final flaps, he landed back on the cliff's edge, stumbling slightly but remaining upright. He had done it.

He stood there, panting, his silver wings spread majestically under the moonlight. He looked at the dark horizon, towards the mountains Hawks had mentioned.

Alright, Hawks, he thought. I'm almost ready.