---
Akhil sat quietly in his seat, the soft hum of the airplane engines vibrating beneath his feet. The cabin lights were dim, the scent of cheap airline perfume mixing with recycled air. Outside the oval window the world was shrinking — clouds swallowing mountains, rivers becoming silver scars.
He didn't blink. Didn't fidget. Didn't look nervous.
Peace was a strange feeling for him now, almost foreign. But in the middle of that peace was the whisper that lived inside him, the same whisper that had kept him alive through torture, chains, beatings, and hell itself.
I need to see her.
The old man sitting beside him shifted for the fourth time. He looked harmless — wrinkled skin, soft eyes, hands writhing like roots from a tree. But Akhil had seen enough masks to know what a real one looked like.
The plane touched Delhi's runway with a soft thud. Seatbelts clicked. People stood. Akhil changed flights. Now it was time for
Delhi to Japan
Akhil sat on his seat and same old man sat beside him.
The old man didn't move.
The plane started to fly and kissed the sky again.
Akhil turned his head, studied him, and smiled slowly.
"Take off your makeup, officer."
The old man's lips twitched…but not in surprise. In amusement.
"You think saying that will make me panic?" he replied. "Kid, I know your mind. If I go to the washroom, you'll disappear before I flush." His voice was smoother now — the voice of a trained hunter, not an old fool.
Akhil leaned back. "And how are you planning to stop me? We're in the middle of a flight now. Can't run even if I want to."
The officer snorted. "You do want to. But you can't ... How amusing ." He stood, walked to the lavatory, and returned minutes later — no disguise now, just a man in his forties with sharp cheekbones and a sharper gaze.
Akhil smirked. "Feel better?"
"Shut up," the officer said flatly as he took his seat. "Listen carefully. As soon as we land in Japan, you're getting arrested. Not just by me. A whole army is waiting."
Akhil's voice remained calm, almost soft. "Where's John?"
The officer raised a brow. "First class. Unlike you."
Akhil chuckled, leaning forward slightly. "I'm poor… or should I say — you made me poor?"
"That joke was so lame it hurts my soul," the officer muttered.
Akhil tilted his head. "Can I meet John?"
"Hell. No," the officer barked.
And just like that, silence settled. A long, heavy silence that stretched all the way to Japan.
---
Tokyo International Airport — The Arrival
Thunder rolled in the distance, heavy clouds hanging low over Narita Airport. Even before the plane landed, the passengers could see flashing lights from the windows — police cars lined in rows like a military parade. Blue, red, white — the entire spectrum of law enforcement.
Hundreds of officers formed barricades. Snipers stood on rooftops. Journalists swarmed like vultures hungry for blood.
It looked like the arrival of a mafia boss who'd burned down an empire….
Not a boy in chains.
The plane's wheels kissed the runway.
Akhil stepped out. His wrists were cuffed tightly. His face was calm. Too calm.
Cameras exploded with light. Reporters screamed questions. Microphones thrust toward him like weapons.
Still, Akhil kept walking, smile faint but unwavering.
The world was watching.
Akhil looking at the media said " I'm damn popular now ."
---
Tsu — Hinata's Room
Hinata's hands were trembling as she clutched her phone. The news channel played in the background, showing Akhil surrounded by hundreds of officers. His expression was unreadable — a mixture of emptiness and fire.
She dialed a number she had never wanted to dial again.
Ring… ring… ring…
John answered.
"Hello, Hina."
Hinata swallowed, tears already spilling. "John… is that really Akhil? The one who killed Akira?"
John's voice was emotionless. "Yes. He's the one. And now," he paused, almost relishing the next words, "I will make him suffer till the very end."
Hinata covered her mouth, breathing shakily. "John… tell me the truth. Is he… gonna killed right?"
Before John could answer, another voice joined the line.
"Hi, Hinataaaa Usukiiii…"
Akhil's voice. Smooth. Cold. Mocking.
Hinata froze, heart pounding.
"I'm Akhil," he said cheerfully, as if greeting an old friend. "Let's meet tomorrow at Tokyo Police Headquarters."
Before Hinata could reply, his voice dissolved into a quiet chuckle.
John shoved Akhil away from the phone. "Kiddo, don't forget your place."
Akhil smiled. "Then take me to the police station."
John tightened his jaw and said to Hinata, "See you tomorrow."
He hung up.
Then he grabbed Akhil by the shoulder and hissed, "Accepting your fate? Good."
Akhil looked at him with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "No, John. I'm accepting your fate."
---
The Airport — Media Chaos
Outside the terminal, chaos continued. The media screamed over each other, pointing fingers, speculating, inventing stories.
"Is he dangerous?"
"Is he the Indian demon?"
"Did he really kill Akira?"
"Is he mentally unstable?"
As officers dragged him through the barricades, a reporter jumped in front of him, shouting:
"You! Yes, you — when God gave you everything, why are you going around hurting people?"
Akhil stopped.
Every camera went silent.
He turned to her, his voice cutting like winter.
"You believe in God. I don't. And He hasn't given me anything. Everything I have was snatched — never gifted. Not by God. And especially not by people like you."
The reporter's face fell, speechless.
Akhil lifted his chained hands and waved to the cameras, smiling like a man walking into paradise instead of prison.
He wasn't scared.
He wasn't ashamed.
He was waiting.
Waiting for the next step.
Waiting to meet Hinata.
Waiting for the Tokyo Knights.
Waiting… to finish what began the night she died.
The crowd watched him vanish through the reinforced doors of Tokyo Police vans and police cars.
But Akhil knew one thing better than all of them:
This wasn't his arrest.
This was his entrance.
---