✦「 Bone to Bone • Hollow Shapes • A Skin With No Soul 」✦
The blizzard had softened by morning, but the cold still clung to the abandoned cabin like a living curse, its frost-bitten wood groaning as if whispering the memory of the man who once called it home. The corpse still sat slumped against the wall—skin pale, eyes open, frozen in that last, confused moment where the fisherman's mind had collapsed under the weight of Akuma's Parallel Operation: Level 2.Akuma stood over the lifeless body, his expression as still as the snow drifting outside. There was no triumph in his eyes, no echo of guilt or joy—only the same unbroken stillness that defined him since the moment of his awakening. Yet a faint lingering trace of… something—an embryonic sensation one might mistake for amusement—still clung to him from the moment he watched the man willingly embrace the storm. It was gone now, dissolved like smoke, but a residue remained, faint and curious.
Akuma lowered himself toward the corpse, calmly extending one pale hand.The moment his fingers made contact—the world bent.
The bones beneath the fisherman's skin trembled.The flesh rippled like liquid wax beneath a flame.Akuma's own body shifted, twisted, reformed with a smooth, silent inevitability.
No screams.No cracking bones.Just a quiet, perfect metamorphosis.
Within seconds, the demon lord reborn stood as a flawless replica of the man—from the tangled hair to the weathered skin to the scars earned through years at sea.Only the voice, sitting dormant in his throat, remained unchanged.
Akuma flexed his new fingers, rotating the borrowed wrist with methodical precision.
Akuma:"…Crude structure. Limited dexterity. Yet sufficiently functional."His voice—smooth, soft, emotionless—was so unlike the fisherman's deep, rough tone that the contrast was almost eerie.But Akuma did not react to this.It was simply data.
He was adjusting to the new shape when—
The door slammed open.
Wind burst inside first, followed by three bundled figures stomping snow from their boots. Their laughter echoed in the small cabin—warm, human, unknowing.
Man #1:"Oi, Haru! You in here? We saw the light fade yesterday—thought maybe the cold took ya, haha!"
Woman #1:"Honestly, you never learn. Always wanderin' too far into the frost. One day it's gonna bite back, y'know?"
Man #2:"Haru, speak up! Don't go pretendin' you're dead to scare us again—you know Kenji hates that."
Akuma stood perfectly still, turning with slow, analytical precision.His borrowed face carried the fisherman's features, but his posture—the unnaturally straight spine, the perfectly relaxed shoulders, the predator-like stillness—felt wrong, subtly wrong.
The three froze.
Man #1:"…Uh. Haru? You good? You're standin' weird."
Akuma looked at them, eyes steady, empty, calculating.He examined their breathing patterns… their footing… their body heat.Three threats.Three unknowns.Three variables.
He spoke.
Akuma (in his unchanged voice, slow, precise):"Your observation is accurate. This posture is… unfamiliar to this body. Movement calibration is ongoing."
The three stared.Blinking.Confused.Unsettled.
Woman #1:"H-Haru… what's wrong with your v-voice? You're—"
Akuma tilted his head, studying her with the quiet curiosity of a surgeon examining a new organ.
Akuma:"This vocal apparatus is inadequate for replicating your companion's speech patterns. I am adjusting. Do not be alarmed."
Man #2:"D-Don't be— what?! Haru, what the hell happened to you last night?!"
Akuma breathed slowly.Not out of emotion—but out of calculation.This was the moment to decide whether these newcomers lived or died.
He stepped toward them, deliberate and controlled, like a shadow wearing human skin.
Akuma:"Before I respond, I require information. Your names. Your connection to this body. And your intentions toward entering this structure."
The three exchanged horrified looks.
Man #1:"Haru… that's not you. That's NOT you—"
Woman #1:"Someone call the priest— something's inside him—"
Man #2:"HEY, BACK UP! WE DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!"
Akuma blinked once.Slow.Emotionless.
Then he whispered—soft, cold, almost thoughtful:
Akuma:"Your fear is noted. However… unnecessary. I have no desire for conflict unless provoked."
But the man closest to the door lunged for the handle—and that, Akuma calculated,counted as provocation.
Akuma's fingers twitched.Parallel Operation began to hum beneath his skin.
Akuma stood inside Haru's body like a soul wearing a costume that wasn't stitched to him properly. The skin fit, the bones aligned, the face was copied exactly — but the essence, the spark, the subtle gestures of humanity… that was what he lacked. His movements were too silent, too precise, too hollow. Even breathing felt like a task he replicated out of observation rather than instinct.
And that was why the three figures who stepped into the cabin froze the moment they laid eyes on him.
The blizzard screamed outside. The wooden door slammed behind them. Snow rolled across the floor in a thin sheet. All three men stood stiff, their eyes widening… not in fear, but in recognition.
They already knew.
Man #1: "Haru… don't play stupid. You weren't standing like that yesterday. You weren't breathing like that. Whatever you are… we want you to crawl out of that skin and show yourself, right now."
Akuma did not respond. His stolen face tilted slightly, studying the man with the fascination one might have toward a strange insect. His posture remained upright, eerily controlled. Every movement flowed with unnatural smoothness.
Man #2: "I knew something was wrong the moment we stepped in. Haru would've cursed at us by now, complained about the storm, laughed about the hunt… but you're just staring. Empty. Quiet."He took a step back, lifting his lantern slightly. "You're not him. You're wearing him."
Man #3: "Haru never shuts up. He never stands still. He never holds himself like some… some dead thing walking around using his body like a puppet."His voice trembled, but he forced himself to keep speaking. "Creature. Come out. You're not fooling any of us. Not today."
Akuma blinked slowly, mimicking the action as if reminded that humans do such things.
His voice — Haru's stolen voice — finally slipped out, calm, low, and terribly steady:
Akuma (as Haru): "Your observations are… unexpectedly accurate. I anticipated less perceptiveness. It appears I miscalculated."
The three men stiffened.
Man #1: "So you can talk. Good. Then listen carefully…"He raised his weapon — a crude spear tipped with bone."…If you harmed Haru, if you crawled into his skin, if you killed him and wore him like a coat—"
Akuma interrupted, tone still flat but unnervingly articulate:
Akuma: "Correction. I did not simply 'wear' him. I absorbed him. Structure, texture, musculature, dermal memory — all replicated at a level your understanding cannot reach. Haru is not… recoverable."
A long, suffocating silence swallowed the cabin.
Man #3's voice cracked:
Man #3: "Y–You monster. You think we'll let you walk out of here?"
Akuma's eyelids lowered slightly as he processed the words.Then, almost gently, he answered:
Akuma: "Your intentions are irrelevant."
Darkness coiled behind him.
Not metaphorically.Not figuratively.
The shadows themselves thickened, stretching across the wooden floor like spilled ink. His spine shifted, cracked, and expanded — not in a gruesome, bloody manner, but in a perfectly clean, unnatural unfolding.
From his back, obsidian-colored bones sprouted like the ribs of some ancient beast resurrected in silence. They grew long, sharp, multi-jointed, clicking with a slow predatory rhythm.
Akuma didn't move.The bones did.
They shot outward.
Two men were impaled before they could scream — one lifted into the air as a shadow-bone pierced through his chest, the other slammed against the wall, breath stolen before his lungs could react.
Only Man #3 survived — thrown aside by a sweep of another bone, the shadowed appendage stopping just an inch from piercing him.
He lay trembling, staring up at the creature wearing his friend's skin.
Akuma lowered his head slightly, staring at the shaking human as if analyzing a puzzle piece.
Man #3: "W–Why… why spare me…?"
Akuma paused… thinking. Evaluating. Then he spoke with chilling calm:
Akuma: "Because you said something truthful."
The man swallowed hard, unable to breathe properly.
Man #3: "W–What… what did I say…?"
Akuma's voice dropped into a soft whisper — calm, level, yet impossibly cold:
Akuma: "You called me a creature. That is the closest description your language can offer. Accuracy should be rewarded."
The last surviving man collapsed onto the snow-rotten floorboards of the cabin, the blizzard howling behind him like it was celebrating the massacre. His eyes trembled as he stared up at the creature wearing Haru's body— the false calm posture, the wrong rhythm of breathing, the shadow-bones still dripping cold, black venom that hissed when it touched the floor.
The man's voice cracked, stretched thin by terror and disbelief.Man #3: "Y-You… you're not Haru… you've never been Haru… w-whatever you are—j-just… just finish it… just end it… I can't even tell if you're human or some nightmare born from this storm, but just don't… don't play with me like you did with the others…"
Akuma tilted his head slightly. An emotionless gesture. A subtle curiosity. His stolen skin—Haru's form—shifted with unnatural smoothness, like the body was clothing he had borrowed without knowing the rules of wearing it. His voice stayed low, neutral, almost soft, yet heavy enough to sink into the man's bones.
Akuma: "Your request is unusually rational. Most expire with noise. You offer silence. That is… efficient."
The man sobbed — not loudly, but like someone whose body had already accepted death long before the mind caught up.
Man #3: "P-Please… I-I don't want… I don't want to freeze like the others… I don't want to feel everything tearing apart… j-just something quick… something that doesn't hurt… please…"
Akuma stepped closer, slow and deliberate, the floor groaning beneath him.Behind him, the elongated obsidian bones receded and reshaped smoothly, curving like serpents of shadow. One bone — sleek, needle-thin, and glimmering with black-violet venom — slithered around Akuma's side like it was alive.
He lowered himself to one knee in front of the dying man, studying him with a gaze completely devoid of judgment, pity, or cruelty. Simply observing.
Akuma: "You fear pain. You fear the slow deterioration of your own functions. A reasonable fear. I can remove that burden."
The man's trembling intensified.
Man #3: "T-Thank you… th-thank you… I don't know why you're giving me mercy but… thank you…"
Akuma blinked once — a slow, detached movement.
Akuma: "Do not misunderstand. This is not mercy. It is merely… completion. A loose end serves no purpose."
Before the man could respond, the shadow-bone gently brushed his neck. A bead of paralysis venom entered his bloodstream like a whisper. The man stiffened instantly, but his eyes softened, the terror dissolving into drowsiness.
He exhaled a long trembling breath as his limbs numbed.
Man #3: "I… I can't feel anything… it's… warm… I thought… it would be colder…"
Akuma: "You will not feel the transition. Your consciousness will extinguish peacefully."
The man nodded weakly, eyes closing with relief rather than fear — the only peaceful face among the carnage.
Within moments… his breathing faded.Then stopped.
Akuma stood silently over the still body. No triumph. No remorse. No curiosity left. Only emptiness returning to stillness.
The obsidian bones folded back into nothingness behind him, vanishing like smoke sucked into a void.
He spoke to no one, voice barely more than a whisper absorbed by the storm.
Akuma: "This form is inefficient. I will require more."
Outside, the blizzard wailed, ripping snow from the earth as if bowing to him.
Akuma stepped out of the cabin, Haru's stolen face expressionless — and left the corpses behind.