He was caught red-handed above the victim, his arms drenched in blood. Even now—weeks later—the metallic scent of blood still lingering in his nostrils. The verdict echoed through the courtroom like thunder, stunning everyone into silence…

  “Innocent.”

  The gavel's crack felt like a mockery. Murmurs from the crowd erupted into a plague of disbelief.

  “No human could drill through a skull with his bare hands.” The judge issued.

  Despite the overwhelming evidence, he refused to believe it. Then again, he wasn’t exactly wrong. The gun was out of the question too. The only fingerprints on it belonged to Donte.

  The law had spoken, but the jury of public opinion had reached a different conclusion… Technicalities. Loopholes. Despite being labeled innocent, the media painted him a monster. Or perhaps it was because he was labeled innocent while looking so guilty. His face plastered across every screen, reporters covering the incident with a cautious tremble, as if the mere mention might summon a terrible fate. Or worse, the demon, Akuma Tiryns.

  It took several weeks for him to recover from the string of past memories and come to terms with his new crimson eyes. Apparently, they’d turned that color after the appearance of the angelic child. Or perhaps, he was always there, and the change is what allowed him to finally see him. Who could say really.

  Today, Akuma walked through the school hallway—the squeak of his sneakers against tiles suddenly too loud in the unnatural quiet that followed him. The usual morning chatter died as he passed, replaced by sidelong glances and hurried steps. The hallway seemed to expand around him, students pressing themselves against lockers as if proximity alone might contaminate them with the disease known as death.

  As he passed a window, something flashed in the corner of his vision. A glint of white—like a feather caught in sunlight. When he turned to look, there was nothing there. Nothing except a reflection of his defeated expression.

  “Was that… him? That apparition? …That damn apparition? Is it even real? Or am I losing my mind now too?)

  The air felt heavier here than outside. Thick with judgment and the clawing scent of fear. His shoulders tensed beneath his uniform. Even the fabric felt like it was judging him now.

  "Hey, look who decided to show up." A voice whispered, just loud enough to be heard by him.

  "Shhh, he might hear you." Another responded, not bothering to lower their voice.

  A classmate he'd saved from a few upperclassmen just last month now clutched his books tighter to his chest as he passed, his eyes darting away when Akuma tried to catch his gaze.

  Not everyone ran. Some stared openly, curiosity battling with apprehension in their expressions. One freshman boy even looked impressed, as if Akuma were some celebrity criminal who deserved his own show on Netclix.

  "Morning…" He attempted to Aniya–the fashionable girl from his class.

  Aniya flinched, muttered something cruel before quickening her pace.

  (They can't even look at me now. These same people who once looked at me with so much respect... Like I was a hero.)

  His homeroom seat, the place where this had all begun, now felt like it belonged to someone else. I mean sure he had a rough first day, but it was completely buried by the second and third. Now, the cafeteria—where he'd always found a welcome seat at any table—resembled a minefield.

  But today was different. At least, that's what Akuma kept telling himself as he spotted Jacob during lunch break. Jacob sat at a table surrounded by people—laughing, carefree. Normal. The sight made Akuma's throat tighten. How long had it been since he'd laughed like that?

  Like a drowning man seeing shore, he fixed his gaze on his friend's familiar eyes, ignoring the painful pressure building behind them. He approached slowly, conscious of each step, each breath. But soon, the conversation at the table faltered, then died. Jacob's smile slipped.

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  "Mind if I sit?" Akuma asked, already sliding into the open seat beside Jacob before anyone could object.

  One by one, the others made their excuses.

  "I need to finish that chemistry homework…" Mumbled a guy who'd never shown interest in academics before.

  "I promised to meet Ms. Alma about that essay." From another who'd proudly proclaimed never doing schoolwork during lunch or at home.

  Their retreating backs carved another wound into Akuma's already scarred pride. Jacob alone remained, but the distance between them stretched miles despite their physical proximity. His friend's fingers drummed nervously on the tabletop, his eyes darting between Akuma and the exit.

  A group of girls walked by, their whispers carrying with deliberate volume.

  "Ew, is that guy one of his friends? Guess we've gotta watch out for both of them, huh."

  Jacob's shoulders hunched as if under a physical weight.

  "What's their deal anyway?" Akuma's voice came out harsher than intended, scraping a bit against his throat. "They keep acting like I'm guilty. Hey, could you maybe..." He hesitated, hating how desperate he sounded. "...Try talking to them for me? Tell them that I'd never–"

  "I-I've gotta go, Akuma." Jacob's voice cracked on his name, like it physically hurt to say it.

  "…Huh?"

  "S-Sorry, it's just that..." Jacob fidgeted with his phone, refusing to meet Akuma's eyes.

  Then, surprising them both, he glanced up briefly. In that fleeting moment of eye contact, Akuma saw something unexpected. Fear, confusion, guilt, even a flash of what might have been concern.

  "Look... I don't know what happened in that alley. The news says one thing, the court says another, and then there's all these rumors..."

  "I didn't kill him, Jacob. You have to believe me."

  Jacob's eyes darted around nervously.

  "I want to, but... My parents say I shouldn't be seen with you anymore. And everyone at school..." His voice trailed off.

  "Since when do you care what everyone thinks?" Akuma pressed, leaning forward. "I’m your friend. You know me."

  "Do I though? Because the Akuma I knew wouldn't have eyes like... that."

  He gestured vaguely toward Akuma's crimson-turned eyes.

  "Something happened to you, and I don't know what it is, but it scares me, okay?"

  Jacob’s words struck him like a punch to the gut, rendering him speechless. Suddenly, Akuma felt a strange prickling sensation at the back of his neck, like someone—or something—was watching him. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of white against the cafeteria ceiling, but when he looked, there was nothing there.

  "We were talking about some anime before you came and I kinda wanted to pick back up." Jacob continued with his flimsy excuse, standing with his tray.

  "W-What anime was it? We could probably talk about it. I've watched a ton of anime, ya know?" Akuma tried once more, his voice filled with desperation.

  Jacob stood up, his tray in hand, but hesitated. For just a moment, something like the old Jacob shone through—a flicker of the friendship they once had.

  "Maybe someday you can explain what really happened… But right now, I just... can't. We... can talk later."

  The promise rang hollow, joining the flimsy excuse inside Akuma’s brain. Both of them knew “later” would never come.

  "...Right." Akuma replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

  As Jacob left, something inside Akuma shifted. Like tectonic plates grinding against each other before a quake. His gaze drifted to the empty seats surrounding him, the chairs pulled slightly farther away than normal, as if even the furniture wanted distance.

  A weak chuckle escaped him. Then another, longer this time, edging toward something unhinged. Then silence fell. A heavy, absolute silence. He looked down at his hands. Firm and strong hands shaped from years of training. All for the sake of one day becoming a hero. They were the same hands that protected others from bullies. The same hands that won Jacob that stuffed dragon. The same hands that had fought to protect his only friend in that alley…

  The same hands people had convinced themselves were stained with blood.

  The cafeteria continued its routine around him as if he didn't exist. The usual laughter and conversations. Yet here he was, isolated in his bubble of silence. Donte's words from that fateful day resurfaced, no longer a memory but a haunting, fulfilled prophecy…

  "But now, you too share nothing in common. Now, he gains nothing from being with you. After all, people only do things that benefit themselves."

  The truth of it drove into his chest like a drill. He felt a sense of revelation. The kind that makes you question not just recent choices but your entire philosophy. Where you sit down and ask yourself, "Where did it all go wrong?"

  The kind that makes you realize your logic was fundamentally flawed.

  He stared at the abandoned trays, the empty chairs, the wide berth given to his table in a crowded cafeteria. Then the school bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Students hurried past his table, some glancing over with morbid curiosity, others deliberately looking away. The crowd parted around his table like water around a stone. Akuma remained seated as the cafeteria emptied. His gaze drifted to the sky, the heavens—or rather, the school ceiling blocking it from view. In that moment, a question that had been buried at the back of his mind finally broke free.

  "Why do I even want to be a hero?"

  And the more terrifying thought that followed.

  "Was trying to help people... the wrong thing to do?"

  The truth dawned on him.

  Heroes are nothing but fantasy. People may appreciate what you do, but they will never truly treasure it. The same could be said for the frauds who call themselves “heroes”. They may appreciate saving someone, but they don’t treasure it. That’s why they’re so quick to give it all up. And he is no different. Because the truth is, whether you’re a hero, or the one being saved, you only care about what benefits you.

  “I guess I can’t save people without a reward.”