The cold wind outside gnawed at the small wooden cabin, rattling the thin walls like a beast demanding entry. Snow layered thick across the ground, muffling all distant sound, leaving only the slow drip-drip of melting ice from the roof. Akuma stepped inside with a stillness that did not belong to anything living. His bare feet made no noise on the wooden floor as his gaze swept over the dim interior, illuminated only by the flicker of a dying lantern.
The air smelled of salt and river water… and fish. Several tools lay scattered across a table—knives, gutting hooks, nets—but only one thing caught Akuma's attention: a freshly caught river fish, silvery scales shimmering faintly, lying on a cutting board as if waiting to be prepared.
He approached it slowly, his expression blank, his eyes reflecting the lantern light like black mirrors.In his mind, a single question echoed, sharp and cold:
What… am I meant to be?
His hand hovered above the fish—pale, steady, unflinching. And the moment his fingertips brushed the smooth, wet scales…
…something inside him split.
Not painfully. Not violently.Quietly. Effortlessly.Like opening a door he did not know existed.
A second awareness bloomed beside his own. A new thread of consciousness unspooled, running parallel, forming a second "self" that was not fully him—but also entirely him.
The fish's form melted into his palm.His body dissolved into a ripple of shifting matter.His bones folded, organs vanished, flesh compressed and rearranged.In less than a heartbeat, the tall, pale boy silently collapsed inward, shrinking, reshaping, becoming smooth, sleek, and cold.
When the transformation ended, Akuma lay on the cutting board—a perfect, shimmering duplicate of the original fish.
His new eyes blinked sideways.His gills pulsed.His thoughts split into two calm channels: one watching, one calculating.
"Curious," he thought, voice echoing inside himself across two parallel minds."A body is… negotiable."
He said nothing aloud. He could not speak in this form.
Minutes later, the door burst open.
A man stumbled in—frostbitten, bundled in furs, breath heavy and ragged as if he had sprinted through the storm. His face was flushed red from the cold, and his hands trembled as he clutched his chest. He shuffled toward the table, muttering to himself through chattering teeth.
Man: "D-Damn this w-winter… I swear I left a f-fresh one here… s-should help my blood sugar get back up…"
He stopped.Then froze entirely.
Two fish.Side by side.
He blinked once. Twice. A third time, slower.
Man: "…what… in the frozen hell… is this?"
His eyes darted left and right as he leaned closer, lips curling in confusion. He reached down, poking one fish… then the other… then back again.
Man: "I— I definitely— I definitely only brought home one. I'm not old enough to be hallucinating, damn it…"
He squinted harder, mind racing.Then he whispered, voice stretching with suspicion:
Man: "…don't tell me… one of you is… alive?"
Slowly—deliberately—Akuma blinked.
The man yelped and jumped back so hard he knocked over a bucket.
Man: "OH— WHAT— NO— NO NO NO— FISH DON'T BLINK LIKE THAT— WHAT KIND OF DEMONIC—"
Akuma, in the quietness of his transformed body, quietly activated another parallel thought, shaping subtle vibrations through his gills. The sounds were soft, unnatural, but controlled, forming a low, humanoid whisper that filled the silence.
Akuma:"Your conclusion is statistically reasonable."
The man froze mid-panic.Blink. Blink. Blink.
Man: "…you… can speak?"
Akuma's voice grew steadier, calm as a frozen lake.
Akuma:"Not in the conventional biological manner. I am merely manipulating airflow through adaptive anatomy. A… workaround."
The man stared at the fish, horrified and fascinated at the same time.
Man:"…th-that's… not an explanation meant for human ears…"
Akuma blinked again, tilting his head—well, his fish head—slightly.
Akuma:"You stated that only one fish existed. Your memory is correct. I am responsible for the anomaly. I altered my form upon contact with the specimen."
The fisherman slowly sat down on a stool, still trembling.
Man:"…you're telling me… you touched one fish… and decided to… become another one? Just like that? No effort? No screaming? No dying?!"
Akuma paused.His tone remained monotone but oddly elegant.
Akuma:"Effort implies resistance. My body possesses none toward transformation. I simply adopt a configuration aligned with the stimulus."
The man buried his face in his hands.
Man:"…this is too much for a hungry man to deal with…"
He peeked through his fingers."…what are you?"
Akuma answered without hesitation, voice smooth and unshaking:
Akuma:"A question I am currently investigating."