Survival in Akame ga kill.

Bane's awareness flickered like a faint pulse in the void.

Without opening his eyes, the first thing he registered was the cold. 

A deep chill that seemed to seep into his very marrow. It differed from the biting cold of wind or frost, this was damp, clinging, and suffocating.

'Where am I?' he thought.

His body felt heavy, submerged like some kind of strange weight pressed against his chest and limbs, as if he were buried under something dense substance.

Wetness followed. Not the sensation of water, but something thicker, almost sticky. The substance clung to him, dragging against his skin with every faint movement.

He instinctively raised his hand, his movements sluggish in the dense fluid. His fingers came into view, but they were coated in a slick, dark crimson.

He frowned slightly, bringing his hand closer to his face. The scent hit him instantly, sharp and metallic, with a sickly sweetness that clung to his senses. 

It was the smell of blood that had been left to stagnate, rich and overwhelming, layered with decay. 

He stared at it for a moment, his pale aquamarine eyes narrowing as he wiped his hand on his bloody, tattered shirt.

'Strange, from the smell this doesn't seem like a dream.' he thought, tilting his head. There was no fear, no disgust. No sense of urgency. It was like his emotions had been dulled.

Shifting his body, he sat up, the thick crimson liquid sloshing around him as it came to just below his knees. 

He glanced around, his gaze scanning his surroundings.

"Nothing." He muttered.

There was no ground beneath him, no sky above—just an endless expanse of crimson. The liquid stretched infinitely in all directions, blending seamlessly into a blood-red horizon. 

"...Well, looks like they finally found a budget to bring me to hell," he mused, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. 

It echoed back at him, faintly distorted, as if even this strange place was mocking his presence.

He paused, raising an eyebrow at the sound of his own voice bouncing back. "Huh. And here I thought the devil wasn't big on interior design."

"Now the only thing remaining is to meet Lucifer or whatever who controls this…. Hellish place."

He stood, his boots squelching against the viscous surface beneath him, and began to walk. 

Each step sent ripples through the blood, but there was no resistance. It was as though the liquid yielded to him, pulling him deeper into the crimson abyss.

—---

After what felt like an eternity, something broke the monotony of the horizon.

A tree.

It loomed in the distance, its shape faint against the endless expanse of red. 

Bane's brow furrowed as he squinted, the massive form becoming clearer with each step he took. The closer he got, the more astonishing the biological entity seemed.

The tree was enormous—no, beyond enormous. It was titanic. Its trunk was as wide as a mountain, its bark glistening with the same dark crimson as the surrounding blood. 

The branches stretched impossibly high, disappearing into the blood-red sky above. They twisted and curled in intricate patterns, forming a canopy that seemed to pulsate with life.

The tree's surface wasn't like ordinary wood. It shimmered like liquid, veins of darker blood running along its trunk in rhythmic, pulsing movements, almost like it was alive. Just as captivating were the crimson leaves, their rustle created a mesmerizing scene.

The roots plunged deep into the blood below, spreading outward in a tangled web that seemed to stretch for miles.

Bane stopped in his tracks, tilting his head as he took in the sight.

The tree itself was massive, with gnarled branches clawing upward into the crimson sky like skeletal hands. But there was something unnerving about it, something off.

As his eyes adjusted to the oppressive light, he noticed a colossal shape coiled around the tree's trunk. 

Its mixed crimson-black scales gleamed faintly, reflecting the bloody hue of its surroundings. 

The thing didn't move, not even the smallest twitch, as if it was a natural extension of the tree, like a horrifying symbiosis of living and dead.

He stepped closer, the air thickening around him, each breath growing heavier. The blood below rippled faintly with unseen energy, sending out small waves with every step he took.

And then he heard it—the low, rhythmic pulse. Like the steady beat of a drum, or perhaps…a heartbeat.

"This thing is alive-" 

"Magnificent, isn't it?" a voice interrupted casually.

Bane turned his head to the left, only to see nothing.

Not that he was surprised. "Of course. Creepy voice, hallucinations, disembodied. Classic hell," he muttered.

"Oye, I am not some hallucination, look below idiot," the voice chimed again, sounding mildly annoyed.

Bane frowned, his gaze dropping downward. His eyes landed on a chubby child of about five years old, standing knee-deep in the crimson sludge. 

The kid's oversized shirt was faded and patched in places, the kind of hand-me-down attire worn by children in struggling households, not too poor to survive, but never enough to thrive.

The child was pouting up at him, his face round and cherubic, but there was something deep in those eyes.

"'Me,'" Bane said flatly, taking in the sight of his younger self without even blinking. He didn't care how weird it was. 

Yeah, the chubby kid was him—or at least, the version of himself that existed just before his world burned to ash. Before the actual hell began.

"He.he" Halting his pout, the little version of him chuckled, as if amused by Bane's lack of reaction.

Bane's lips curled into a wry grin. "Well, you know what they say—lose everything, and you lose your fear of everything." He let out a dry chuckle, running a hand through his damp, blood-matted hair. "Case in point. I'm standing in an endless ocean of blood, chatting with my past self, while staring at an eerie, giant tree so massive it could probably hold up the sky… and let's not forget the scaly enormous thing coiled around it, like it's decorating for the world's most depressing holiday. But, nothing unusual, right?" 

The boy tilted his head, his grin widening, though his eyes remained strangely knowing. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his gaze before he finally spoke. 

"You lose everything, and all that's left is the version of you that can survive what comes next. The rest? It dies before you do." His voice was light, almost playful. "Ever heard that one, Bane? Or should I say… Leo." 

Bane's grin didn't waver, but his eyes sharpened slightly. The word 'lose' suddenly felt heavier, as if it carried more meaning than it should. But he didn't let himself dwell on it. 

"Are you here to haunt me or something?" He scoffed, crossing his arms. "And yeah, I know the quote. Why bring it up?" 

The boy's grin didn't falter, but something in his gaze darkened. 

"First off, I'm not here to haunt you. That would require you to actually 'feel' haunted." His light laugh echoed in the silence. "And second? I asked because it's bullshit." 

Bane raised a brow. 

A new voice, deeper and rougher, spoke near his right ear. "Because for 'us', you're far from strong." 

Bane's body tensed slightly, and he turned his head to see a faceless, crimson silhouette standing beside him. 

"In fact," the voice continued, dripping with quiet disdain, "watching you disgust 'us'. 'You' are nothing but a suicidal, hypocritical, empty husk who spends his remaining days blaming himself for a past he couldn't have changed… and you don't even have the strength to visit your parents' graves." 

Bane eyed the faceless entity with a mild smirk, masking the unease creeping down his spine. "And who the hell are you, talking like you've got a right to judge me, you faceless bastard?" 

A jagged, unnatural grin stretched across the entity's blank face. It leaned forward, its presence suffocating. 

"I am 'you'… Well, to be more precise, I'm also 'you'. The one before all the pretending." A hand gestured lazily toward the boy. "Before *him.*" 

Bane's smirk twitched, but he didn't let himself falter. Instead, he exhaled slowly, looking between the two versions of himself—the past and something else. 

"Well, damn. At least this isn't the hell I thought it'd be." He ran a hand down his face, his voice dry. "Or maybe it is. Some kind of mental torture cooked up by Lucifer himself." He chuckled hollowly. "Gotta say it's working. Ten out of ten, I would lose my sanity again." 

The child version of himself didn't react, his small hands tucked behind his back. His sharp, knowing gaze cut through Bane's forced humor. 

"You can joke all you want, but you know *he* is right," the boy said, nodding toward the crimson figure. "You're weak. Not because you can't fight, not because you haven't survived—oh no, 'you' are great at that. But what's the point when you don't even have a reason anymore?" 

Bane's fingers curled slightly, his jaw tightening. 

"That's rich coming from a kid who still thought life was fair," he shot back. "You think you understand what it means to keep going? To keep moving forward, even when there's nothing left?" 

The boy let out a humorless chuckle, but before he could respond, the crimson silhouette spoke again. 

"Forward?" it scoffed. "Oh, you mean running on autopilot? Stumbling from one bloodbath to another, calling it 'repaying debts' or 'settling scores' like that makes it any less pathetic?" 

Bane turned his gaze toward it, but remained silent. 

"You've convinced yourself that if you just keep killing the right people, if you throw yourself into enough fights, one day, it'll balance out. Like some grand cosmic scale is gonna tip in your favor." The boy stepped closer, crimson rippling around his small frame. "But you and I both know that's bullshit. Just like that madman Zanku had said, all you want is to die in order to escape from your guilt." 

Bane rolled his shoulders, exhaling through his nose. "Are you done yet, kid? Or do I get a turn?" 

The boy's piercing stare didn't waver as he asked again. "Why did you not visit them? After being released from that hellhole of a laboratory, you had seven years in which you 'never' once visited their graves." 

"I was here for-" Bane tried to say something but was interrupted midway.

"Don't you dare to dodge the question, coward." The other 'him' interrupted, "We are 'you' and 'we' know you better than anyone in this world… two worlds, even." He finished the last part with a chuckle.

Bane's gaze remained unreadable, but something flickered in his aquamarine eyes. 

Then, after a moment, he let out a dry chuckle. "....See their graves, huh?" 

His expression darkened, the weight of something unspoken pressing against his chest. 

"Funny thing about that." He slowly cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing in the empty expanse. 

"They don't have graves."

.....

A/N : Guess who the Crimson fellow is? I think most of you had already guessed from the Start, so tell in the comments.

Anyways, good day.