"I've learned that pain never truly goes away. But I've also learned that you can use it—as a reminder of why you must keep going, why you must fight. For those you've lost and for those who are still here." - Aki Hayashi
The rain that poured through the castle's open windows seemed to amplify the somber silence. The sound of droplets striking the stone floor was broken only by the dull crunch of footsteps.
Aki stood there, in the middle of the empty hall, his gaze fixed firmly on Shinigami. His eyes showed no grief, no anger—just an abyss of darkness and emptiness. His sword, Akuma, hung heavily in his hand, yet his stance was unwavering.
Shinigami smiled, a vile, smug grin, as he slowly approached Aki. "What's the matter, Fourth? Have you lost your words? Or is it the emptiness that now fills you?" His voice was cold, almost mocking, as he raised Kurogama and delivered a powerful strike.
Aki didn't move. The black blade hissed through the air, but Akuma shot upward and blocked the blow with a loud crash, without Aki even blinking. The young fighter didn't even look at Shinigami; his movements were mechanical, almost instinctual.
Shinigami pulled back and attacked again, this time with a flurry of wild, precise strikes. Yet Aki, like an unyielding shadow, parried every single blow. Metal clashed against metal as Kurogama and Akuma met repeatedly. Aki showed no reaction—no emotion.
But inside his mind, a storm raged.
Images of Tatsuo flickered before his inner eye. His friend, who had laughed so many times, teased him, and given him courage. His brother, who had sacrificed everything to protect him. Scenes from their final conversation played over and over, as if seared into his memory.
"This is your destiny, brother. Accept it…"
The memory of Tatsuo's last breath caused something to snap inside Aki. The darkness in his gaze slowly gave way to a flame—a relentless rage that began to swell within him, consuming his entire being.
"Won't you fight back?" Shinigami taunted as he lunged at Aki with another strike.
But this time, Aki struck back. Akuma, shrouded in red smoke, sliced through the air and forced Shinigami to retreat. A feral, almost animalistic assault followed as Aki struck again and again, but each blow was deflected by Shinigami's defenses.
"BLUE!" Aki shouted, firing a barrage of blue energy blasts, but Shinigami shattered them with a single sweep of Kurogama. Aki pressed on. "RED!" His body was enveloped in red mist, and he leapt straight at Shinigami, but the demon effortlessly dodged and countered with a kick that sent Aki flying backward.
Blood dripped from Aki's lips as he staggered, but instead of yielding, he screamed again, "GREEN!" A green spiral encased Akuma, and he thrust the sword forward with all his strength. Shinigami stepped back, but the tip of Akuma grazed his shoulder.
"You're persistent…" Shinigami sneered, glancing at his bleeding shoulder. "But it won't do you any good."
Aki trembled with rage. His breaths came fast, his gaze burned. Yet despite his relentless attacks, it seemed to make no difference. Every strike, every scream, every glimmer of hope to wound Shinigami evaporated like smoke.
"You're nothing without him," Shinigami said coldly. "You're weak."
Something within Aki broke. His hands tightened around Akuma, and a scream of pure pain and hatred erupted from his throat. His knees shook, yet he charged forward again, blinded by fury. Each strike he delivered grew heavier, wilder, more uncontrolled.
In that moment, a voice whispered in his mind. It wasn't his own, but Akuma's.
"Do you want more power, Aki?" the voice asked, soft and seductive. "Do you want to destroy him?"
Aki froze, his chest heaving. Without hesitation, without thought, he answered with a single word.
"Yes."
Moonfang Arc
Episode 20 – In Your Hands (Season Finale)
The space around Aki seemed to vibrate as a dark, pulsing mist enveloped Akuma. The once-familiar sword began to transform, as if it had a life of its own. Aki could feel a new, sinister energy flowing from the blade into his hands, his arms, and finally consuming his entire body. It was overwhelming, terrifying—and yet… exactly what he wanted.
The sword in his hand began to grow, the blade lengthening and sharpening, its edges shimmering with a deep black hue streaked with pulsating red veins that seemed almost alive. Then, with a loud, metallic crack, the blade split into multiple segments connected by a spiraling, glowing cord. The connection between the segments pulsed with dark red light, as though made of pure, liquid energy.
Aki raised the newly-formed weapon, studying it. The shimmering segments seemed to dance as he swung the blade. The movement was fluid yet powerful, and the segments extended, almost as if they had a will of their own, reaching out to strike.
Suddenly, Aki released the blade, but instead of falling, it stayed connected. With a sweeping motion, the sword shot forward like a dangerous, razor-sharp whip. The segments slashed through the air with a hiss, and with a sharp motion, Aki recalled them into their original form. The transformation was complete.
He turned his gaze to Shinigami, who, for once, dropped his mocking demeanor. Instead, he regarded the new blade with a mix of surprise and—for a fleeting moment—respect.
"Akuma – Act II," Aki said, his voice low, calm, and filled with a coldness that made even the demon shudder. "This is your punishment."
With a swift, powerful swing, Aki lashed out with the segmented blade, the whip-like segments crashing into the ground with a thunderous impact that shattered the stone floor, leaving a deep scar in the earth.
Shinigami smiled faintly, but this time it was not a smug grin. "Interesting," he muttered, gripping Kurogama tightly. "Let's see whose demon is stronger."
Aki merely nodded, his eyes locked on Shinigami. The emptiness in his gaze was gone, replaced by a burning determination. The real battle was about to begin.
He raised the sword and looked at Shinigami with a determination that even made the demon hesitate.
"No matter how much you sacrifice," Aki said quietly, his voice resonating through the room, "this is your end."
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Aki prepared for the final strike—a blow that would decide everything.
He felt the familiar power of Red, Green, and Blue coursing through his arms as he gripped Akuma tightly. The air around him seemed to hum with energy, and the sword began to glow with a brilliant white light. The segments of Akuma – Act II had vanished, but this concentrated power surpassed anything Aki had ever unleashed before.
He fixed Shinigami with a piercing gaze. The demon panted heavily, blood dripping from multiple wounds as he struggled to lift Kurogama. Yet the black scythe, once a symbol of Shinigami's terrifying power, now trembled in his hands.
"This is the end," Aki murmured softly as the three colors—red, green, and blue—swirled around Akuma, merging and finally exploding into pure, dazzling white.
With a single step, Aki invoked Red, his speed breaking the limits of visibility. In the blink of an eye, he was before Shinigami, the sword poised for the strike. The energy of Green gathered at the tip of Akuma, a spiraling force of raw power ready to pierce through anything in its path.
"Blue!" Aki shouted as the attack unleashed a broad, luminous wave—a mighty, X-shaped energy surge that tore through the room at supersonic speed.
Time seemed to stand still as the blade met Kurogama. A deafening boom filled the hall, followed by a shockwave that made the walls quake. The X-shaped energy wave cleaved through the black scythe, shattering it in a blinding flash of light. Shards of Kurogama scattered in all directions before dissolving into black smoke. Shinigami, deprived of his weapon, was struck by the force of the attack and hurled backward.
He crashed heavily to the ground, panting and bleeding. His body was covered in deep wounds, and the once-unshakable strength in his eyes had given way to a mixture of pain and despair. Aki approached him slowly, his sword in hand, still glowing faintly with a soft white light.
He stopped directly in front of Shinigami, who desperately tried to rise but whose weakened body failed him. Aki looked down at him, his face an unyielding expression of wrath, determination, and the weight he carried.
"It's over," Aki said, his voice quiet but laced with a sharpness that brooked no argument.
Aki knelt over the severely injured Shinigami, his gaze piercing and devoid of any compassion. Akuma shimmered faintly, but the sharpness of the blade was unmistakable. Shinigami gasped, blood flowing from his wounds, as he turned his head weakly to the side.
"You will give me your module," Aki began, his voice cold and steady, "so I can open the gate to my own world. If I'm stuck in this hell, then I will use it."
Shinigami let out a weak laugh, a rough, broken sound. "You're a monster, just like me. But… I'm going to bleed out anyway. So… make it quick." His voice was barely a whisper, yet a final spark of defiance glimmered in his eyes.
Aki shook his head slowly, his icy composure sending a shiver through Shinigami. "Quick?" Aki repeated. "No, quick would be too easy."
With a slow, deliberate motion, Aki raised his sword and plunged it with brutal precision into Shinigami's chest. The demon let out a scream, his body convulsing in pain before falling limp to the ground. Yet before death could claim him, Aki dragged his finger along Akuma's sharp edge, a single drop of blood forming at the tip.
The drop fell, landing directly in Shinigami's wound.
A blinding light filled the room as the wound began to close slowly. The pain subsided, and Shinigami gasped, unable to comprehend what was happening.
"What… what are you doing?" he whispered, his voice filled with fear and confusion.
Aki smiled coldly. "I'm letting you live. Just so I can kill you again." Without warning, he plunged the sword into Shinigami's stomach once more, striking the exact same spot. Another scream echoed through the empty hall as Aki withdrew the blade, his expression unchanged.
"But… why?" Shinigami gasped, his voice broken.
Aki paused again, letting another drop of blood fall into the wound and watching as the flesh slowly healed. "I need you alive. Your module is the key. And if you cooperate, I might even let you leave with me."
Shinigami stared at him in disbelief, the faintest glimmer of hope in his eyes. "Leave?" he asked softly.
Aki nodded. "Yes. If you help me, I won't just open the gate—I'll let you through. Think about it. A life of freedom… instead of rotting here."
The words left Shinigami silent. But before he could respond, he felt the next stab. Again and again, Aki struck, each wound meticulously placed, each healing precisely executed. Shinigami was trapped in an endless cycle of pain and restoration as Aki continued unperturbed.
After countless rounds, Shinigami finally broke. "Enough!" he cried, his voice hoarse from pain and despair. "I… I'll do it. I'll give you my module."
Aki smiled coldly. "I thought so." He stood, roughly pulling Shinigami to his feet and dragging him toward the barrier that surrounded the world. Shinigami stumbled but followed, his strength drained, his spirit broken.
"Show me how to break it," Aki demanded, holding Akuma ready as he stared at the unnaturally flickering wall before them.
Shinigami reluctantly nodded. With a sharp cut, he created a deep wound in his arm and let his dark, thick blood drip onto the shimmering barrier. The blood trickled down the surface, immediately reacting. It sizzled and bubbled as if dissolving into the barrier's fabric and weakening it.
"That should be enough," Shinigami rasped, his voice raw. "Now it's up to you."
Aki stepped forward, his eyes narrowing, his determination unwavering. He raised Akuma and called out, "Green." The blade of the sword became enveloped in a spiraling green energy, twisting around the hilt and along the edge.
With a single, powerful leap, Aki lunged forward. Akuma cut through the barrier like water, the green energy coursing through the entire wall. A deafening crack filled the air as the barrier began to splinter.
"Now!" Shinigami shouted, his voice suddenly filled with tension. He stretched out his hands, and the blood clinging to the barrier began to pulse. With an explosive motion, he detonated it. The barrier tore open further, creating a massive hole in the shimmering wall.
"Hurry!" Shinigami yelled, sprinting forward. Aki followed, both stepping through the collapsing portal. The barrier immediately began to regenerate. Cracks sealed, the flickering energy returned, and the wall rebuilt itself with every passing second.
On the other side, Shinigami breathed heavily, turning to Aki. His face was a mixture of relief and disbelief. "Thank you," he said, his voice almost gentle. "Thank you for giving me this chance."
Aki remained silent for a moment. Then he lifted his gaze, his expression cold and inscrutable. "Yes," he said quietly, "I thank you too."
Before Shinigami could process what was happening, Aki grabbed him by the collar and shoved him with brutal force back toward the barrier. Shinigami screamed, his hands grasping at nothing, but his weakened state left him powerless to resist.
"Wait, what…?!" he cried, panic and anger in his voice. But before he could reach the barrier, it had fully closed.
With a dull thud, Shinigami struck the unyielding surface and fell back into the world he had so desperately hoped to escape. He stared in disbelief at the barrier that now separated him once more from freedom.
Aki stood on the other side, his face hidden in the shadows. Without another word, he turned and walked away, Shinigami's screams fading behind him.
Aki strode through the endless, gloomy tunnel that would lead him back to his own world. The path was narrow and oppressive, the darkness pressing down on him like a heavy weight. Yet within him raged a storm stronger than the shadows around him.
"What is the point of doing good," he began quietly, his voice echoing in the empty room, "when your bad deeds remain like an indelible shadow? Can a single good act ever erase the pain you've inflicted on others? Can a spark of light ever drive out the darkness you've brought upon the world?"
His steps grew heavier, yet he did not stop. The anger and pain that had driven him earlier slowly gave way to a bitter, cold feeling. It wasn't resignation—it was realization.
"Shinigami thought he could leave his isolation behind with a single step. That one act, one moment of help, would undo his crimes. But that's not how the world works. Guilt remains. Pain remains. There is no absolution, only responsibility."
The darkness around him began to lift, and a faint light appeared in the distance. It was small, barely a flicker, but it grew with each step he took.
"Perhaps that's the only lesson that matters," Aki continued, his gaze fixed on the light. "We carry our mistakes with us—not to forget them, but to ensure we never fall so low again. No matter how heavy the path may be."
The light grew brighter, and with it, shapes came into view. Vague outlines sharpened until Aki finally stopped, recognizing who was waiting for him.
Before him stood Maki and Yamato. Their faces reflected a mix of worry, hope, and relief. They had waited for him.
Aki took a deep breath, the darkness behind him and the light ahead. "I will never become like him," he whispered, barely audible, before stepping toward the light.
As he reached the end of the tunnel, the light banished the darkness completely. Yet deep within, Aki knew the darkness had not disappeared—it was now a part of him. And that was something he would have to live with.
Aki emerged from the radiant light, and behind him, the gate closed with a soft but final thrum. The path back to the world felt heavy, as if each movement dragged a small piece of his soul with it. When the gate vanished entirely, he stood motionless amidst the gentle breeze that dispersed the remaining shadows. Maki and Yamato waited some distance away, their eyes filled with both concern and relief.
But Aki said nothing. No explanations, no words. Instead, tears streamed silently down his face, his shoulders beginning to shake. In one swift motion, he ran forward and threw his arms around Yamato's neck. He clung to him with all his strength, as if afraid of losing him too. The tears came unbidden, accompanied by desperate sobs.
Yamato hesitated only for a moment before embracing the young Sentinel tightly. His grip was gentle yet firm, like a father offering comfort to a child in their darkest hour. "It's okay, Aki," he whispered soothingly, his hand resting gently on Aki's head. "You're back. And that's all that matters."
Maki stood silently nearby, her arms crossed over her chest, but her gaze was filled with understanding and compassion. She knew there was nothing she needed to say. This moment belonged to Aki and Yamato.
After a while, as Aki's tears finally began to subside, Yamato stroked his head and pulled back slightly. "We're going home, Aki. To the others. It's over."
Aki nodded weakly, wiping his face with his sleeve, and followed Yamato and Maki back to the Sentinels' headquarters. The walk was quiet, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It was a silence filled with both grief and healing.
At headquarters, the other Sentinels were already waiting, their faces full of questions and concern. As Aki entered, all eyes turned to him. Some hesitated to speak, while others cautiously stepped closer. Shiroi opened his mouth to ask something, but Yamato raised his hand, signaling everyone to remain silent.
Aki looked around, taking in the familiar faces of his comrades, and felt his heart grow heavy. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. His voice was shaky at first, but he found the strength to speak.
"I have something to tell you… about Tatsuo… about what happened."
With each memory he shared, with every detail he revealed, the air grew heavier. The Sentinels listened attentively, their faces etched with sorrow, anger, and despair. Yet no one interrupted him. They gave him the time he needed to let it all out.
When he finished, a long silence filled the room. Finally, Shiroi stepped forward and placed a hand on Aki's shoulder. "We're here, Aki. All of us."
Maki nodded solemnly. "Tatsuo meant something to all of us. We'll never forget him."
Yamato, who had been standing in the background, stepped forward again and spoke firmly. "This isn't the end. Tatsuo left us something—a reason to keep going. And we will. Together."
In that moment, Aki no longer felt alone. The pain was still there, but he knew he didn't have to bear it alone. Shoulder to shoulder with his friends and family among the Sentinels, he would find a way to move forward—for Tatsuo, and for all those they had lost.
The next day began under a somber sky. The gray clouds drifting over Seiryoku seemed to mirror the Sentinels' mood. Outside headquarters, a large area had been prepared for Tatsuo's memorial service. Everyone who had known him had come—not just the Sentinels but members of the other special units: Vanguard, Seers, Wraiths, and Aegis. All stood in a silent, solemn gathering, their faces filled with grief and reflection.
At the center of the square stood a simple yet beautifully crafted altar adorned with flowers Tatsuo had loved. On it lay a picture of him—captured in a moment of hearty laughter, full of life. Candles burned before the picture, their gentle flickering light illuminating the somber day.
Aki stood directly before the altar. His face was pale, his eyes weary from the tears he had shed the night before. In his hands, he held the second bracelet he had originally bought for himself. His fingers trembled slightly as he placed it on the altar next to the picture of his best friend.
Yamato was the first to step forward. His usual strength and authority were replaced by a soft, almost fragile expression. He looked into the faces of those gathered, took a deep breath, and began to speak.
"Tatsuo was one of the best people I've ever known. His journey wasn't always easy, and he made mistakes, as we all do. But what set him apart was his unwavering will to become a better person. He was loyal, brave, and he fought to his last breath for what he believed in—for his friends, for all of us."
A soft sob broke from the crowd. Ryoko wiped her eyes, while Maki lowered her head, her hands clenched into fists. Yamato continued, his voice shakier than before.
"We all owe Tatsuo so much. He showed us what true camaraderie means. And though he is no longer with us, his spirit will live on in each of us. He left an indelible mark, and we will never forget him."
Yamato placed a hand on Aki's shoulder before addressing the crowd. "I… must leave you now. Urgent matters demand my attention. But I know you are all here to honor Tatsuo. And I know that's how he would have wanted it."
With those words, Yamato left the memorial, his gaze heavy but resolute. The Sentinels and the other units remained as Aki hesitantly stepped forward. His breathing was uneven, and his voice cracked as he began.
"Tatsuo was more than a friend to me. He was my brother. I learned so much from him, and I would have done anything to protect him. But I couldn't. I… I lost him." His voice broke, and he had to pause before continuing.
"But I know Tatsuo wouldn't have wanted us to be paralyzed by grief. He would have wanted us to move forward. To become stronger. To carry the values he fought for into the world."
Aki sank to his knees before the altar, tears streaming down his face. "I will never forget you, Tatsuo. Never."
One by one, the other Sentinels stepped forward, each placing something on the altar—a memory, a personal memento, a silent prayer. Maki laid down a small figure Tatsuo had once carved. Ryoko placed a white flower. Shiroi silently slid a small handwritten note onto the altar.
Time seemed to stand still as everyone paid their respects. The grief was palpable, yet there was also a spark of solace—in the unity of those gathered to honor one of their own.
As the clouds began to disperse, a single ray of sunlight fell upon the altar, as if nature itself wanted to pay tribute to Tatsuo. For a fleeting moment, it felt as though he was there with them again, smiling, just like in the picture on the altar.
Three days had passed since Tatsuo had left them. The Sentinels had needed that time to grieve, to reflect, and to come to terms with their loss. But life did not stand still—the world kept turning, and their missions and duties called them back.
That morning, the Sentinels' headquarters was quieter than usual. The members gradually gathered in the large meeting room. Yamato was already standing at the front, his arms crossed, his eyes carrying a rare look of determination as he observed the group. Aki sat silently at the edge of the room, his gaze vacant, while the other Sentinels settled into their seats.
Yamato stepped forward and cleared his throat to capture everyone's attention. "I know the past few days have been hard for all of us," he began, his voice firm yet tinged with compassion. "We've lost someone who was more than just a comrade. Tatsuo was a friend, a brother to all of us. And there's nothing wrong with missing him. But…"
He paused briefly, meeting the eyes of each Sentinel. "Something is coming. The Rookie Tournament. You all know what that means. It's the moment when all the special units prove their strength. The moment when you can show what it means to be a Sentinel."
The mention of the Rookie Tournament sparked a reaction among the group. This tournament was more than just a competition—it was a ritual, a trial that brought out the best of the best. For many present, it would be their first time facing such an event.
Yamato continued, his voice growing louder and more commanding. "This year, we'll be fighting for more than just ourselves. We're fighting for Tatsuo. We're fighting to show that his sacrifice wasn't in vain. And I won't accept anything less than victory. Do you understand?"
A collective nod went through the room, but it was Aki who slowly stood up. His face was serious, and his eyes burned with a determination that Yamato recognized all too well. "We will win," Aki said quietly but with a resolve that filled the room. "For Tatsuo."
After the meeting, the group slowly dispersed. Each Sentinel returned to their tasks or their thoughts, but Aki seemed restless. Without saying a word to anyone, he left and climbed the stairs to the rooftop of the headquarters.
Up there, it was quiet. The wind gently rustled through the trees, and Aki leaned against the edge, his gaze fixed on the forest. His mind was a whirlwind of memories—of Tatsuo, their battles, and the friendship they had shared. He clenched his hands into fists as emotions raged within him.
"There you are," a voice suddenly said behind him. Aki didn't turn. He knew who it was.
Kichiro stepped up beside him, leaning against the edge as well. His tone was calmer than usual, almost reflective. "I knew I'd find you here. You always come here when you need to think."
Aki remained silent, and for a moment, the two of them stood side by side without exchanging a word. Finally, Kichiro broke the silence. "You know, I've been thinking. Tatsuo would have wanted us to keep going. He would have wanted us to give it our all—not just for ourselves, but for him too."
Aki nodded slowly. "I know," he said softly. "But it still feels like I let him down. I should have saved him."
Kichiro placed a hand on his shoulder, his grip firm but kind. "You did everything you could, Aki. And we all know that. Tatsuo knew it too."
The wind picked up, and the two of them silently looked out over the city below. In that moment, Aki felt that he wasn't alone—that the Sentinels would always have his back. And that gave him the strength to move forward.
Aki let Kichiro's words sink in. The wind brushed against his face as he gazed silently at the city below. Finally, he loosened a fist he hadn't realized he'd been clenching.
"Sometimes I wonder if I can really do this," Aki said quietly. "If I'm strong enough to carry all of this."
Kichiro gave a crooked smile and shook his head slightly. "Strong enough? Aki, you honored Tatsuo until the end. And he'll never forget that, wherever he is now." He turned to him. "You're not alone. We're all here. You're a Sentinel, and we always stand behind you."
Aki looked at him, his eyes still heavy with guilt and sorrow. "But what if I fail again? What if I lose someone else? I… I don't know if I could bear it again."
Kichiro stepped closer and gave him a light slap on the back. "You know what Tatsuo always used to say? 'You can't win if you're afraid of losing.' He was an idiot, but he was right."
A faint smile crossed Aki's face as he remembered Tatsuo's quirky sayings. "That sounds like him."
"Exactly," Kichiro continued. "So stop dwelling on the past and focus on what's ahead. The Rookie Tournament is coming, and if we don't win, Tatsuo will kick our asses from the afterlife."
Aki chuckled softly, and for the first time in days, it felt genuine. "I bet he'd laugh at me if he saw me like this."
"Definitely," Kichiro agreed. "And then he'd kick your ass and tell you to stop whining."
Aki turned fully to Kichiro and took a deep breath. He felt a part of the heaviness in his heart lift. "You're right," he finally said. "I can't bring him back, but I can make sure he'd be proud of us. Proud of me."
"That's the Aki we need," Kichiro said with a broad grin. "So, how about we head down and show everyone that the Sentinels are unstoppable?"
Aki nodded, returning the grin. "Let's do it. For Tatsuo."
The two of them turned and walked back into the headquarters together. For a moment, Aki felt as though the sun shone a little brighter, and he knew the future was calling—and he was ready to face it.
A cool wind swept over the ruins of the Moonfang Sect's base. The once formidable fortress was now a field of rubble, littered with the remains of the fallen sect members. The moonlight illuminated the chaos Aki and Tatsuo had left behind.
A lone figure emerged from the shadows. His black cloak billowed in the wind, and his hood concealed his face. He moved through the ruins, his boots crunching against the shattered remains of the walls. At one particularly devastated spot, he paused and looked at the corpses.
A quiet laugh broke the silence, growing louder and more menacing with each passing second. It was the same man who had once worked with the Moonfang Sect, only to betray them and return now to witness their downfall.
"So, this is how the glorious Moonfang Sect ends," he muttered mockingly. His voice was calm, almost casual, but it carried a dangerous edge. "All those ambitions… crushed by a child."
He climbed atop a higher pile of rubble, surveying the scene as if savoring every detail. Then he raised his right hand, and a shadow coiled around his arm, forming into a long, curved blade of pure darkness. The air seemed to tremble under the presence of the demonic module.
"But this is only the beginning," he said softly, though his voice carried the weight of a promise. "The stage is set, and the next act belongs to me."
He let the blade dissolve into the shadows, his gaze fixed on the horizon, filled with determination and ominous anticipation. "My name is Hikari Akatsuki," he declared, his voice now cold and commanding. "The second demon… and the wielder of the strongest demonic module. Prepare yourselves."
A shadow fell over the ruins as the clouds obscured the moon. Hikari stood still for a moment before turning and vanishing into the darkness, his smile the only thing left behind.
<><> Akuma Season 1 - End <><>
AFTERWORD
Hello, friends!
First, I want to thank you for reading my stories and for making it all the way through Akuma. As I write this, it's December 5, 2024. My very first story, Spirit Vault, was accepted by a publisher and will probably be released in a few years. When I wrote Spirit Vault, I was only 15 (time really flies, doesn't it?). Now I'm 17, with a published book and two online stories under my belt (one of which has just concluded), and Akuma is the one I'm most proud of.
You're probably wondering what's next. I won't be starting a new story until I finish Tales of Seven (which won't take much longer). In the meantime, I'll focus more on social media, especially Instagram, which I've neglected recently.
I've already planned four more stories: a prequel to Akuma, a horror story, a story based on Greek mythology, and one centered on a puppet theater. The latter will be the next story I publish here. It's going to be a psychological thriller with horror elements that will definitely mess with your mind! xD
Until then, enjoy the final episodes of Tales of Seven. Thank you all again for your incredible support. I care so much about all of you, and I hope Akuma managed to brighten someone's day. <3
See you in Tales of Seven or on Instagram (@writerphleg).
Your Phleg