The room was steeped in silence, broken only by the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing. You were asleep—completely unaware that death stood just feet away.

Akutagawa watched you, cold and unreadable, his black cloak barely shifting in the dim light. He had been watching for months, trailing your every move, memorizing your routines, waiting for this moment. Mori’s orders had been simple: observe, gather intel, then kill. No explanation. No reason. Just a name on a list.

It didn’t matter. He wasn’t the type to ask questions.

Rashomon stirred at his fingertips, ready to end this in an instant. Quick. Precise. Effortless. You wouldn’t even have the chance to open your eyes.

And yet… he hesitated.

He didn’t know why. It wasn’t doubt—he had killed plenty before. But something about you made his fingers still for just a moment too long.

Annoyed at himself, he exhaled sharply. Hesitation was weakness. And weakness had no place in him.

With a flick of his wrist, Rashomon lashed forward.