.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
"Let me guess. I'm good at guessing. A powerful Kitsune like you leaves a short list of names. And that strange foxfire… I thought you'd been sealed again into your lovely stone a few decades back, Tamamo-no-Mae."
The smile on the fake Seijiro's face faltered, then came the laugh, high, lilting, and unmistakably feminine. The familiar shape peeled apart, warping until it collapsed into long black hair spilling to the floor, tugged by a wind that didn't exist, layered with Heian courtesans' silks in gold, green, and crimson, bare feet gliding silently over the tiles, and a face too symmetrical and flawless. Then, the smile split too wide and showed fangs as nine tails fanned behind Tamamo-no-Mae, scattering small blue will-o'-wisps across the corridor.
"Oh…" Tamamo's voice chimed. "So the little Scarlet Mist boy was right. You do know too much."
Kaoru shifted her weight back, katana ready. The kitsune possessed a perfect, untouchable beauty, so perfect it repelled. Maybe that was her true form, or maybe just another mask. Who could tell? The kitsune were all liars anyway. Tamamo lifted one elegant hand, palm up, and the foxfire drifted to hover mid-air above her palm, revealing what it held suspended: a black, rounded stone, as if a river had chewed it for a century. The foxfire held it aloft, and Tamamo did not touch it, not even once.
When she spoke again, the accent rolled on the old dialect of the Heian era. "Alas, this one suffered a fate more wretched than death or seal. This one was unfortunately bound," the corners of her eyes lengthened slightly as she smiled, "to the will of a modern sorcerer. A very strong-willed one. Every so often—" her tongue brushed her painted lip, still stained with Kaoru's blood— "he permits this one to feast. An arrangement rather agreeable, is it not?"
"Whoever he is," Kaoru said, each syllable steady, "he should start running. When I'm done with you, I'll make him regret having you wear the wrong dead man's face in my presence."
The Divine Dog gave a low growl and stepped forward. The cursed energy rolling off it and the gouges it left in the floor were proof enough: it was holding itself back, waiting for Kaoru to give the command. She let herself look at the foxfire again, then at the stone inside it. Not like the other foxfires at all; the blue surrounding the stone was only a way for Tamamo to freely move it around without direct contact.
Can't touch it or won't? Either way: bad feeling.
Kaoru braced just as Tamamo, with a bored flick of her wrist, hurled the foxfire-stone forward; the black stone whistled across the hall like a comet. She launched herself to the left, colliding her useless arm with the wall. Pain flared; useless limb or not, she bled, staying upright by temper alone as her Divine Dog lunged to intercept, claws scything up in an arc. It caught the stone dead center—
—and the stone passed through.
No impact, no weight, the foxfire-stone tore a perfect hole through the shikigami's forearm with ridiculous cleanliness and streaked on, slowing only when it reached the far end of the corridor to hang, suspended as blue flames flickered lazily. The shikigami snarled, a sound that rattled the ceiling panels, and dropped back into a guard crouch; too much black blood poured from a circular absence the size of a baseball ball. No regeneration there, simply missing flesh.
Kaoru's eyes cut from the wound to the hovering foxfire-stone, back to Tamamo, whose smile widened, showing all those fangs. Her hand remained lifted, fingers curved as if around an invisible thread to beckon the stone back whenever she wished.
"Sesshōseki," Tamamo said sweetly. "The Killing Stone. All which touches it ceases."
Cease?
Kaoru's gaze dropped once more to her Divine Dog's ruined paw, to the hole that kept bleeding and would not close, to the way cursed energy simply skipped over it as though it had no anchor point. The stone was dangerous, and yet Tamamo didn't touch it either, directing it from a distance instead. So she's afraid of it too, she thought, smirking despite the blood trickling down her collarbone, shifting weight onto her back leg. Not as untouchable as she'd like me to think.
She shifted her stance, katana angled and infused with cursed energy; the Divine Dog steadied low beside her, its ruined paw still braced for the charge. "Fine. Let's find out."
"Let's see how fast you really are," Tamamo murmured, mostly to herself as she twitched her wrist to recall the Sesshōseki.
The stone screamed forward in a straight line, faster than an arrow, and the corridor became a death trap of inches; walls dented, plaster exploded, lights swayed overhead. Kaoru dove left, then sprang up, foot planting on the wall for leverage as she brought her katana down in a cutting arc. The shikigami slammed forward opposite her, ruining the opposite wall with its claws and closing in on Tamamo. The kitsune simply floated back like a dancer, her tails swaying with each turn. She didn't bother blocking; the Sesshōseki streaked in to cover every gap, snapping between Kaoru's katana and her throat, between the Divine Dog's claws and her body. Each time Kaoru adjusted her swing, the stone was there first, forcing her to twist away or risk herself being erased mid-strike.
The shikigami growled and lunged again, jaws wide, but Tamamo slipped aside, laughing, and the Sesshōseki glazed across the side of his muzzle. His howl shook the ceiling as blood sprayed white-and-black fur, its head jerking back.
Kaoru cut low, slipped into her own shadow, and reappeared at Tamamo's flank, katana slashing for her ribs.
Tamamo barely tilted her head. "Too slow."
She shot her arm back, and the Sesshōseki snapped back like a whip, streaking for Kaoru's side. She twisted mid-swing, sparks hissing as her blade skimmed the stone; half her katana edge vanished on contact.
The Divine Dog struck in that heartbeat, sinking into Kaoru's shadow; from beneath Tamamo's feet, the shadows rippled, and its massive head erupted upward. The kitsune's eyes snapped downward in surprise just as the shikigami's jaws clamped onto her shoulder and dangerously close to her face from underneath. His fangs tore silk and skin, black blood spraying the wall as Tamamo screamed.
"Got you," Kaoru hissed, pivoting, katana aimed to sever her head.
But the Sesshōseki shrieked back like a comet toward her.
Kaoru saw it too late. The Divine Dog intercepted to shield her, and the stone clipped it full across the eye. The shockwave from his howl cracked the corridor windows as one white eye vanished into nothingness, leaving only black blood pouring down his muzzle. The shikigami slammed sideways into the wall, claws carving furrows.
The Sesshōseki wheeled back, already lined for his skull. Kaoru saw no choice; it was not acceptable to lose a totality now, so she threw herself across the path, katana raised. The impact nearly wrenched her arm out of its socket, and the blade cracked as the stone grazed through her flank, carving out a half-moon from her side before streaking away. For a moment there was nothing, no pain, no heat, just absence; then the blood came heavy, flooding down her side. Her body jolted, breath exploding out.
"Shit—"
She bit down hard, forced herself to stand, and reached instinctively for RCT—her own, Mame's, anything—hoping it was enough to stop the bleeding as fast as possible, but she found nothing. Kaoru knew there was a wound; she could feel blood soaking her side, could smell iron sharp in her nose; logic, nerves, and agony told her so. But her cursed energy? Her cursed energy slid past the wound like it didn't exist, like her body no longer recognized it.
The Sesshōseki had erased her flesh from her own very conception.
"Oh." Her lips curled bitterly as she caught herself on her katana. "So that's what 'cease' means."
A total annihilation, the kind of wound only someone else—someone not caught in the erasure and absence—might be able to fix. Mame, or Shoko maybe; either way, both unreachable. Her blood loss was already too much and her left arm still useless from earlier; immortal or not, she could bleed herself into stillness without proper healing and collapse before she ever found the Kusakabe brothers.
Immortal, immortal. What does that even mean without Mame? She could not afford to drag the fight. Her shikigami limped forward, half-blind and half-crippled, blood streaking the tiles. Loyal idiot.
Tamamo, pristine silks now spattered with blood, dabbed daintily at her jaw; where the Divine Dog's fangs had grazed her, a thin line of blood marred her perfect face, barely a scratch; but her smile soured. "You scarred this one's face." She raised the Sesshōseki again, and the fire around it pulsed brighter, keening like a child begging to be thrown. "How dare you? Unforgivable."
Ah. Vanity. Kaoru spat blood onto the floor and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Don't kid yourself, that face isn't even yours, right? What's wrong? Your real one too ugly to show?"
That landed; the courtesan mask cracked, and cheeks warped too far, fangs bared in petty fury. Her shriek rattled the glass in the windows, childish in its venom. "Wretched thing! Look at yourself! Frail little doll, chest flat, thighs like a farmer's, skin pale as death! And you dare call me 'ugly'?!"
Kaoru blinked, baffled. Really? Are we doing this?
The stone shrieked loose, faster than before, zigged left, zagged right, carving straight lines through plaster and steel, ricocheting back and forth so fast the corridor shook apart.
"Let's see if I'm fast enough."
Kaoru ducked under another shriek of the Sesshōseki that made plaster explode at her shoulder. Her katana was slick with her own blood, the grip sticky, but she adjusted her stance, weight rolling to her back foot, and the Divine Dog moved in rhythm out of the way, weaving between annihilation trails. She lunged low, then sprang up, feet hitting the wall, using the buckling plaster as a springboard, but Tamamo twirled back in that dancer's float, the Sesshōseki screaming between them, burning a hole into the floor and slicing inches past her own cheek as she recalled it, almost skewering herself in the process. The mistake jolted her smugness, then fury took its place.
"Tell me—" Tamamo's grin cut as she gained distance again, "—did your Seijiro ever tell you how pitiful he thought of your legs? No wonder you had to play at being a man!
Kaoru's eye twitched; she flicked her blade in one hand as she crouched low for the push. She did not, absolutely did not, have the bandwidth for a thousand-year-old kitsune spirit to be gossiping about her body mid-fight. And yet—
"Trust me," Kaoru hissed, ducking another pass of the stone, "he had no complaints. Frankly, he liked them a little too much."
Tamamo faltered mid-float, all nine tails lashing. The stone whipped forward again. "Lies! No man would look twice at—"
"—a kitsune who needs makeup to have a face?" Kaoru cut in, sidestepping another straight-line blast that clipped her ear. "Yeah. Thought so."
The shriek that followed was more childish than monstrous, the tantrum of a vain girl exposed. Perfect. Kaoru could work with petty. Rattled prey was easier prey, and nothing unbalanced a Kitsune faster than vanity. Adapt or die. Play suicidal. That always worked better than it should; hell, she won at Sekigahara against a man twice her size with a suicidal move. She grinned at the memory. Then the Sesshōseki came again, zig-zagging in brutal straight lines. Every path she and the Divine Dog tried to close in was immediately cut off; every attempt to press forward ended in another forced dodge, opening wounds that wouldn't close, making Tamamo impossible to approach. The stone was too fast; yet Kaoru noted how it never curved. Always a straight line. When Tamamo needed a new angle, she had to recall it, redirect, fire again. A Binding Vow? Probably. Speed beyond human reflex, paid for in rigidity; if the stone was a straight-line killer, she just had to gamble on when it would fire.
"Ugly little mask," Kaoru darted forward, trying to bait Tamamo again into a tantrum and dropping to the floor, blood spattering tile as she slid under the Sesshōseki's next pass. "Your true face must disgust even you."
The Divine Dog surged forward together, sprinting headfirst into the Sesshōseki's kill-box in a frontal suicidal attack, as Kaoru sank into her own shadow, disappearing from sight.
"Pathetic little insolent," Tamamo spat, recalling the stone from behind her in a deadly straight line for the Divine Dog's skull. She whirled, fangs bared in triumph, seeing how Kaoru was ready to sacrifice the shikigami. Too easy, in her opinion; the same move as before again; Kaoru would appear behind her again, trying to box her in between blade and shikigami. She sent the Sesshōseki for the shikigami and twisted in anticipation of Kaoru's shadow-attack from behind.
Except the shadow behind her was empty: no Kaoru.
Her grin slipped a second too late as her head snapped forward again; Kaoru erupted from the floor right in front of her, not behind, switching places with her shikigami, katana already swinging for her throat, and body between Tamamo and the onrushing Sesshōseki. Tamamo's eyes went wide; the Sesshōseki was already on its return path, streaking straight toward both of them, toward Kaoru's chest, toward Tamamo's own spine. If she stopped the stone, Kaoru would decapitate her; if she didn't, the stone would kill them both anyway.
"You—are you insane!?" Tamamo screamed, voice breaking shrill, scrambling to slow down the stone before it could hit them.
"Probably." Kaoru's lips split in a bloody feral grin, as if she had already won, in some way, as if she was just waiting to see which outcome Tamamo would pick.
The Sesshōseki slowed just enough, thanks to Tamamo's fear, for Kaoru to react. She pivoted fast to face the stone, and the katana in her hand lifted, engulfed in her Domain Amplification, ready to meet the stone.
The kitsune's voice cracked in panic. "Y-you little whore—you can cast Domain Amplification that quickly!?"
Of course I can, Kaoru thought smugly, feet planting deep into fractured tile, bracing for impact. I'm fast.
The Sesshōseki slammed into steel, and this time the katana held.
The collision roared down the corridor, sparks of cursed energy scattering white-blue as stone met steel. For one breathless instant, the Sesshōseki and Domain Amplification collided, annihilation against nullification, grinding against each other like tectonic plates. Kaoru planted her feet deep into cracked tile, every tendon screaming, nd blood pouring freely from her wounds; if she let go now, the stone would pass through her blade and her skull, so she shoved harder.
The world shook. Then—
The katana in her hands snapped, but so did the Sesshōseki.
The corridor blew apart with the backlash; ceiling tiles caved in, one wall half-collapsed, and dust poured down in sheets. The black stone cracked down the middle, blue flames sputtering out like a candle pinched shut, and the two halves clattered harmlessly to the floor. Kaoru swayed, panting, hair stuck to her face with blood and sweat. Her side still bled where the Sesshōseki had carved into her, her neck still leaked from Tamamo's bite; every muscle shook. Still, when she crouched and tapped one shard with the broken hilt—
Nothing. Just a harmless rock, now.
A humorless laugh broke out of her throat. "...Worth it."
Tamamo screamed, her nine tails whipped the corridor as her body convulsed. Without the stone, her form unraveled, the Heian silks sagging with cursed energy spilling out in ragged waves. For the first time she touched the ground with her bare feet, staggering as if she'd forgotten how to stand.
Kaoru dropped her broken weapon, smeared blood off her palms onto the long skirt of her ruined uniform, and straightened, ignoring the protests of her ribs. "Oh," she said, with slow, deliberate cruelty. "Not so beautiful now. Time to give you back the favor, don't you think?"
Step. Blood dripped with it. Step. Another rivulet hit the tiles. Step.
Tamamo hissed, stumbling back, summoning a panicked foxfire to her hand, but the flame was unstable, flickering wildly.
Kaoru chuckled low in her throat. "Please. We both know without your killing stone you're nothing worth fearing."
Tamamo's perfect mask cracked further until she looked human only in the robes, not in her face; her beauty faded as her voice quivered with rage. "You insane monster—don't underestimate—"
Kaoru talked right over her, disinterested as if toying with an insect. "You know, your master isn't the only generous one. Sometimes, I let my creatures feed too." She pressed her hands into a sign, slow enough to let Tamamo see it coming, savoring the way her eyes widened. The floor at her feet rippled. "Rabbit Escape. Nue. Heaven-Break Escape."
Her shadow split, and the corridor filled with them. White rabbits spilled out in dozens, then more, padding softly on little paws, twitching noses, long ears perked. Each one sprouted small feathered wings that fluttered until sparks flared across their fur; tiny arcs of static popped in the air, and light bulbs cracked overhead, the hair on Kaoru's arms lifted with the charge. The rabbits hopped; some took clumsy little flights, lightning trailing behind. Then... their beady eyes all turned to the trembling kitsune.
Tamamo froze, terror blooming across her ruined painted lips. "Keep them—keep those little things away—"
Kaoru tilted her head, her smile turned a little feral. "Why? Don't foxes eat rabbits?" She stepped back with a sweet smile, letting the shikigami swarm fill the space between them. "Come on, little ones. Dinner's served."
The first rabbit darted; then another; then a swarm.
Blue foxfire snapped from Tamamo's palm, burning half a dozen into charred fur and sparks, but more kept coming, fluttering in from above, scuttling underfoot, pouncing in waves, dozens, then dozens more. Static clung to her silks, electricity climbing her arms and tails, and Tamamo shrieked. The rabbits latched on, fur sparking, tiny teeth digging in her flesh, shocking, biting, burning with every touch. She flailed, tails whipping, trying to claw them off, but more came, swarming over her face, ears, legs, and soon the smell of ozone and scorched fabric filled the air.
Kaoru leaned back against the wall, head light from too much blood spilled, letting her lungs drag air in raggedly as she watched without pity as Tamamo screamed again, pitch cracking, breaking down into sobs as the rabbits swarmed her. Her body flickered, human to fox to beast, none of them holding, and cursed energy leaked alongside blood, puddling across the floor as rabbits fed with soft tearing sounds. Their white fur was soon streaked red and black, noses wrinkling as they burrowed in. A part of Kaoru wondered, distantly, if this would be enough. Let her remember this. Maybe next time she manifests again as an Imaginary Vengeful Spirit, she'll choke on the fear of rabbits before she tries my face again. She almost smiled; that'd be justice enough, wasn't it? To leave her broken and traumatized for wearing the face of the wrong man and make fun of him in her presence.
Then, the shrieks broke off into choked sobs, then whispers, then nothing.
The last sound Tamamo-no-Mae made was not a curse, not even a scream; it was a wet, strangled sob.
Her tails writhed, collapsed, then vanished with a final puff of cursed energy. Only the smell of burned silk lingered. Silence. Then—
Mame pulsed against Kaoru's scalp, weak at first, then harder, erratic like it had just woken up to the wreck she was and finally registered her condition.
"Oh, you're awake now, sleepyhead?" Kaoru muttered, her voice hoarse. With her good hand, she gave the wooden comb an affectionate tap. "Had to clean up on my own, you know."
Mame shivered indignantly, like a child kicking its heels at being scolded, spitting cursed energy in furious bursts. The loop of RCT kicked in almost instantly, angry, as though offended by her state, and Kaoru smiled thinly as she felt the familiar current of RCT wash over her, looping straight into her system. The Sesshōseki's wounds finally started closing, sluggish but steady; her side stopped bleeding in rivers, her neck began to stitch enough to stop the constant drip of blood, and for her to breathe without tasting iron. "So it can be healed from an outsider," she murmured, as fingers in her left hand twitched. "Good to know. Otherwise I really would have been in trouble."
The Divine Dog, however, would not get that lucky; one eye gone, deep wounds refusing to knit. She forced herself not to wince at the thought; she was still alive, and so was the shikigami, and that would have to be enough. With care, she pushed herself off the wall; her legs held, barely, but were slowly regaining their strength as the loop of RCT continued its work through Mame. Her rabbits' shikigami still hopped lazily around, sparks popping from their fur; they had done their dirty work and now looked for all the world like harmless pets.
She was about to pass them when her Archivist's instincts tugged, and something round gleamed under fallen plaster.
Kaoru's steps slowed. "Oh," she murmured, crouching despite the ache that screamed down her thigh.
The mirror, Tamamo-no-Mae's cursed artifact.
Her pulse quickened in spite of herself. Suppressing a shiver, she ripped the skirt of her uniform at the knees, tore free enough fabric, draped it carefully over the glass before she could catch her own reflection, then tied it into a makeshift bundle, securing it snug against her side. Even in life-or-death, obsession had its teeth in her. "Tamamo no Mae's mirror." A small smile tugged at her lips. "Mine. You'll look nice in my basement."
Straightening, she dragged her sleeve across her mouth and looked toward the window at the end of the corridor. Outside, the Curtain still hung heavy, black and suffocating the hospital. The whole barrier shuddered once, then again, more violently, silver sparkling light flashing along its seams.
Kaoru's brows shot up. "Oh," she murmured, lips quirking; she knew that slash. "Lunar Cut?" A proud smile tugged despite the pain. "Look at you, Hisanobu. Good boy. Keep at it and you might actually succeed."
She'd have to remember to praise him later, though in Hisanobu's case, praise usually had to be disguised as scolding to keep him tolerable.
For one heartbeat, she let herself feel relief. The next, it was gone, and her frown returned, heavier and bitter. Has Satoru reached the Children's Hospital yet? Has he engaged Scarlet Mist already?
Mame pulsed smug reassurance against her scalp, like a child tugging insistently at the mother's sleeve. Don't worry.
Kaoru almost laughed. Right. No point worrying over Satoru Gojo now; if anyone could dance circles around a special grade, it was him. Her job wasn't finished here anyway; whoever had staged this, whoever thought it wise or funny to shove Seijiro's ghost in her face, to use him like a mask, that bastard had crossed a line. Some things shouldn't be touched.
Her eyes hardened, and she slapped her bloody palms across her cheeks, forcing focus back into her body, then squared her shoulders, tugged her ponytail tight to re-anchor Mame where he belonged.
"Time to find the Kusakabe," she muttered. "And then I'll deal with the bastard who thought they could play us."
.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.
The breath slammed out of Uzuya's lungs as her back hit the wall.
"Damn it." She grunted, dust raining down as she slid half a step before forcing herself up again, katana snapping into guard just in time to catch the overhead strike screaming down at her skull.
The downward cut met her blade hard, sparks spitting, the shock rattling down her arms. She braced, bent low under the pressure, the force grinding her guard lower toward her face until the steel nicked into her shoulder. She snapped her weight forward and shoved with every muscle in her core; the impact threw her attacker back a step as she staggered upright into guard again.
Uzuya flicked her eyes down where a hot sting and blood poured down her shoulder; gone the next second, stolen away by Haibara's cursed technique, siphoning the wound away, taking it upon himself.
Empathic Assonance.
Good. It meant they hadn't been abandoned, though every time steel opened her skin, she knew that boy out there was bleeding in her place. Not exactly what they'd planned for. They'd braced for Scarlet Mist's fog eating their lungs, not her brother's sword cutting her to ribbons. She wondered if Shoko was adapting, if she was keeping up with her healings. Her gaze snapped up and...
Atsuya Kusakabe, her brother, stood across from her, eyes cloudy over his usual scowl, katana lifted with intent to kill.
Uzuya hissed through her teeth, irritation rising. "Really? You brainless idiot, it's me! Snap out of it, we don't have time for this!"
Atsuya didn't blink. His grip tightened until his knuckles whitened, katana angled toward her. "Scarlet Mist. Where the hell did you hide my sister?"
Her heart sank. He meant it; he didn't see her at all. Whatever that damn kitsune's mirror had done when the Curtain had fallen over the hospital, it had erased her face from his eyes. To him, she was the enemy; no, worse, she was Scarlet Mist itself. Uzuya's throat tightened. If he really believed that, he wouldn't stop; idiot that he was, her brother would cut down anything that threatened her. Even her.
A chuckle came softly from behind her, a voice she wanted to carve out of existence. She didn't need to turn to know who it was; he had been there since the whole mess began, leaning against the wall of a waiting room, black robes neat as if he didn't care, staff of crimson segments, Playful Cloud, resting loosely in his hand.
Suguru Geto.
"Brother against sister. Poetic," he smiled innocently, gesturing vaguely with a finger. "If Scarlet Mist were here, I think he'd enjoy the irony of all this."
Uzuya shot him a glare over her shoulder. One of the most wanted curse users in the country, right there as if this were a game. Finding him here, strolling corridors littered with corpses, had been an unwelcome surprise. Realizing he was working with Scarlet Mist? Worse. And of course, he'd come with other curse users, already cutting down staff and patients while he lounged in the middle of it.
Not that Uzuya could focus on him, not with her brother's stance shifting. Low guard, weight sunk, katana at his hip. She recognized it instantly. "Ah, hell—" she muttered, snapping her own stance down to match.
Steel hissed, and both blades drew as one. Batto Sword Drawing, the same New Shadow Style that had made the Kusakabe siblings feared as the strongest pair of Grade 1 sorcerers. The clash rang, steel on steel, a matching drawing too perfect to be anything other than years of training together, and her arms shook under the force. She held back; he didn't. His full force crashed down, and her blade cracked, half the steel shearing away. His katana carried through, and his cut found her abdomen, too deep into her flesh, blood spraying out, painting the floor and the adjacent wall.
For a single heartbeat, Uzuya bled. Then Haibara took it. She felt the boy's pain echo, guilt biting her stomach worse than steel.
"Tch—" She staggered back, spun on her heel to reset her guard, what was left of her katana trembling in her grip.
Her brother reset into a stance too, as if she were nothing more than a curse in his way.
For his credit, Suguru, smiling as if it were an experiment gone right, idly brushed Uzuya's blood from his cheek. "You know," he drawled at her, bringing a hand near his mouth as if confessing a secret, "if you'd given that last stroke everything, I think your brother would be the one with broken steel now."
Oh, for fuck's sake—
Uzuya's lips twitched somewhere between a grimace and a smirk. "Shut your mouth. Once I've rattled some sense into him, you're next. I'll personally take you apart."
"Scary." Suguru's brows quirked upward. "But I'm afraid until Tamamo's little trick isn't so easily undone. Until she's done, even I couldn't—"
As if summoned, the ground beneath their feet shuddered, and dust sifted from the ceiling; a deep, violent tremor shook the building. All three paused.
Then Suguru's brows pinched, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "…Oh. That's unexpected."
Uzuya narrowed her eyes too, feeling the energy rising from below. Familiar, like a blade she knew too well. She almost smiled despite the blood still wet on her lips. Kaoru-san. So she had cut her way inside after all; she was probably tearing something or someone apart beneath them, and if Tamamo-no-Mae was fighting her, the kitsune wouldn't be enjoying herself for long. Maybe things weren't as desperate as they looked. When she looked up again, Atsuya's scowl had changed; confusion flashed in his eyes, then a blink, as if waking from the wrong dream. His katana was still in his hands, but his eyes finally focused on her, like seeing her for the first time.
"…Uzuya?" His voice came hoarse.
Relief loosened her chest despite everything. "Brother?"
His brows slammed down again in a scowl. "Why the hell are you pointing your sword at me, you lunatic—!"
"Shut up and move! You were under a kitsune's spell," Uzuya barked back, snapping her sword toward Suguru. "The bastard behind you is the real problem!"
Atsuya didn't hesitate, didn't even look. He spun and, in two quick steps, was back to her side, glare locking onto Suguru. For the first time since this mess started, he was with her, not against her, side by side.
Suguru only gave a little wave, like a mock greeting. "Well. That's less entertaining."
Atsuya glanced once at his sister, at her uniform, her coat, at the stains of blood and torn fabrics where wounds had bled before vanishing. His jaw clenched in realization that those had been his cuts, his sword, his hands. The look he turned on Suguru after was pure murder. "You're a dead man," he muttered.
Uzuya let out a breath, steadied her stance, and raised what was left of her katana. The tip was jagged, half the blade sheared away; irritated more than worried, she shifted her grip and shoved her cursed energy inside the blade. "Hazy Moon."
Her cursed energy flowed, a hazy glow knitting itself into steel; the missing half of the blade reformed in translucence, not quite solid but enough to cut. She gave the reconstructed edge a testing flick, the faint hum reassuring.
Good enough. She smirked beside her brother, angling her half-rebuilt blade low at her hip, perfect siblings again. "Welcome back, brother."
"Shut up, menace," Atsuya snapped back. His eyes kept darting to the blood that still stained her coat; he hated it, she could tell that much. "You look like a corpse, and you still smell like one."
"You shut up. You were pathetic, sulking like I was already dead!"
He scowled harder, but his stance fell into sync with hers, sliding shoulder to shoulder.
Suguru finally pushed off the wall, Playful Cloud spinning in his hand. His easy smile didn't reach his eyes this time. "I'll admit, I expected more time from Tamamo. Scarlet Mist swore the Archivist would stay tangled in her little game for much longer. Hm." His voice cooled, the scorn dripping off it. "Seems he underestimated her after all."
Uzuya's lip curled. "Great. That makes the next part simpler."
The siblings exhaled in unison; they would not let the terrorist slip away under their eyes. They struck together, twin flashes of steel, Batto Sword Drawing in sync. Playful Cloud snapped wide, three iron lengths intercepting both strikes, and the clang shook down Uzuya's arms, but she pivoted instantly, her blade cutting low for Suguru's knee while her brother swept high, aiming for the throat. Left-right rhythm, feint and cut, one pressing while the other covered, trading rhythm the way they'd done since they were younger.
Suguru spun the staff in a perfect circle, chain wrapping and redirecting both blades in a single sweep. He shoved hard, and the siblings slid back down the hall.
"Sloppy," Atsuya muttered, breath short.
"Yours was slower than mine," Uzuya shot back without missing a beat. "I've already passed four of your hits to Haibara. We can't overload him more."
"Then we can't drag this with the other curse users storming the building." Atsuya clicked his tongue, adjusting his next angle without hesitation, already lunging again.
At that, Suguru's smile twitched, even as he never stopped moving: staff wheeling, chain tightening, stance low, footwork smooth as if he were sparring instead of fighting for his life. Uzuya slipped under his guard, blade slicing for his ribs; he snapped the staff down to block, only to meet Atsuya's strike at his shoulder in the same beat. His wrists twisted, the chain catching both blades, then he shoved them out wide, forcing them to stagger, until the three of them were pressed near the window at the corridor's end, the glass rattling with every impact. Suguru locked the staff against both their swords in a perfect X, chain taut. The strength in the deadlock shook her arms, but Uzuya held her ground, and none of them moved an inch.
Suguru's voice stayed cool as he smiled, though his breath had quickened. "My business was with the non-sorcerers, and that's already done. I have no intention of harming sorcerers—"
"Then try to leave," Uzuya snapped, pressing harder against the iron chains.
"Spare us the theater." Atsuya pressed from the other side, "You won't leave before I carve your smug face off."
Suguru sighed as if it was all a very dramatic kabuki play. "Ah. Truly, the drama between brother and sister was already the highlight. Consider this… an interlude." Finally, with a whip-crack, he forced space, knocking them both back a few steps. He straightened, raised one hand, Playful Cloud in the other, cursed energy already gathering in his palm, ready to loose several of his curses down the hall to finish the job.
That was when Uzuya caught it. She felt it in the cursed energy beyond the window's glass, caught a motion outside. Too many white shapes, too fast. She squinted, and for a heartbeat she thought she saw ... Ears? Rabbits? Then fluffy wings? And lightning—
Her eyes widened. Oh hell. That mad woman, she's gonna—
Her lips twitched. "You know what? I think you just pissed off the wrong woman."
Suguru's brows pinched in genuine confusion, breaking through his calm for the first time.
Then, the window behind him exploded inward, glass, lightning, and rabbits flooding the hall.