The moon had reached the top of the sky. It was the dead of night, and the battle only grew fiercer. Reimu's entire army had repositioned itself on the front, and before long, Aria, Shinrei, and Harris had found themselves surrounded once more. Their bodies bore the marks of the fight — deep wounds, bruises, open gashes that no one had had the time to tend to. The pain made itself known with every movement, every breath, and their reserves of aetherium were dangerously close to their limits. The situation was becoming critical. Kael and Nozomi were taking far longer than expected to defeat Reimu, and with every minute that passed, the three others crept closer to an inevitable end if nothing changed.
Aria, Harris, and Shinrei had regrouped to better hold their ground over time, fighting side by side, relying on each one's distinct techniques to attack, defend, and support one another. However, this regrouping also had the effect of concentrating the entire enemy force at a single point, the hundreds of Reimu's soldiers still standing converging on them like a tide.
On the other side of the city, at the foot of the Eiffel Tower, Nozomi was seething. His emotions were out of control after what Reimu had inflicted on Kael and after his cold, calculated provocations. Reimu, for his part, remained calm — almost bored. To him, all of this was nothing more than a game he was deliberately drawing out.
As Nozomi channeled what remained of his aetherium to prepare himself to fight, Reimu addressed him with a thin smile. "I won't kill you just yet. I'll wait until my soldiers have finished off your family, so I can watch the despair on your face."
Those words were one too many. Nozomi launched himself straight at Reimu in a direct line, flames erupting from both arms, blazing and furious. Once in range, he rained down rapid, violent blows upon him.
Reimu, however, retreated step by step, dodging each strike with cold ease. Nozomi was out of his mind — his blows were driven by anger, not by the serenity and calm that usually defined him. In that state, there was no chance of truly landing a hit.
Suddenly, as Nozomi threw a direct punch, Reimu sidestepped and immediately followed with a circular kick of surgical precision that connected with Nozomi's ribs in a dull crack. The pain exploded through his side — fractures, he felt it instantly, every breath becoming a searing burn.
As he collapsed toward the ground, Nozomi slammed his hand against the concrete and a sharp spike of stone surged upward toward Reimu. But with a sharp flick of his hand, Reimu shattered the stone spike to dust. Nozomi seized the cloud of debris that briefly obscured Reimu's vision to close the distance.
He was close enough. From his fingertips, he aimed at Reimu and fired a fast, concentrated bolt. The discharge shot forward at lightning speed. But as the bolt dispersed the dust, Nozomi was caught off guard — Reimu had dropped low to dodge it, and in the same movement, swept his legs out from under him, cutting away his footing.
Nozomi was falling but had the reflex to catch himself on his hands and drove his foot backward, releasing a devastating gust of wind. Reimu saw the attack coming and cleared it with a backward leap, landing without effort.
Nozomi planted his feet, fists clenched, and hurled a concentrated stream of fire at him. Reimu vaulted into the air to avoid it and landed behind Nozomi. Nozomi reacted fast — in one fluid motion, he conjured a sharp ice blade through his mastery of water and launched it at Reimu. But just as Nozomi was certain of hitting him, Reimu sidestepped, grabbed his arm, stopping it dead. A second later, he seized the ice blade, and with a precise and merciless gesture, sliced open Nozomi's left eye.
Nozomi collapsed to the ground screaming with every ounce of strength he had, a raw and tearing cry that rang through every surrounding street, carrying all the way to the most distant ruins. The pain was unbearable — a fierce, burning agony radiating from his eye all the way to the back of his skull. Blood poured thickly between his fingers pressed tight against his face, hot and unrelenting.
Somewhere in Paris, the fraternal confrontation continued. Shion refused to fight Kuro, but Kuro, beside himself, was fully intent on finishing his brother who stood in his way.
Shion was sent flying in every direction, slamming into walls, crashing through concrete partitions, smashing into rubble again and again. Several wounds marked his body — deep cuts on his arms and face, blood running from his nose and a gash above his eyebrow, a likely fracture in his left wrist that he instinctively shielded. And yet, every single time, Shion got back up.
Kuro, who could no longer stand the situation, watched him rise again and said, his voice taut with a frustration he didn't fully understand himself. "Why do you refuse to fight? Are you going to keep standing there and doing nothing? Do you want to die at my hands that badly?"
Out of breath, his breathing labored from damaged ribs, Shion nevertheless spoke in a voice that was surprisingly firm. "I refuse to raise my hand against you. We don't need to fight."
Kuro lunged and drove a direct punch into his abdomen with brute force. Shion held his ground, spat blood from his mouth and nose, folding over on himself, agonizing where he stood but refusing to fall. Kuro grabbed his hand and hauled him upright, looking him straight in the eyes, searching for something — hatred, fear, anything. "All these years, you did nothing. And now, as if by magic, you want to help me."
He threw Shion to the ground and said in a low and strangely calm voice, as if the words came from somewhere deep and painful within him. "There is nothing good in this world. And yet I keep clinging to this miserable life. I've come to understand that I was not the only one in this situation — but that only those who find a point of light to hold onto can hope to survive. Mine is Father. Reimu Hikarizuki. He is the only thing that keeps me going each day. And I will destroy anything that threatens my light."
Shion slowly wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, leaving a red smear across his cheek. Even if speaking cost him something with every word, he managed to say. "Then why am I still alive?"
Shion's words caught Kuro off guard, leaving him silent and unsettled. Shion continued, his voice low but clear. "You could kill me if you wanted to. You've had a thousand chances to do it. And yet I'm still breathing. That's proof that you care about this world and the people around you."
Shion pulled himself upright as best he could, knees trembling, and continued. "You just don't know how to detach yourself from Father. But if we work on it together, we could find a way forward. You can find happiness beyond him."
Kuro cut him off. "Unfortunately… I would have liked that. But for a long time now, I have finally understood that after so many trials, so much suffering and loneliness… nothing else will ever be able to make me happy."
Kuro's right hand began to transform, his fingers swelling, razor-sharp claws and thick black fur pushing through his skin, his hand looking more and more like that of a creature. He looked at Shion with a fixed and resolute gaze. "If you don't move and don't defend yourself, I will kill you for real, older brother."
Shion looked at him calmly, without retreating a single centimeter. "I already told you. I won't do anything against you."
"Then you will die." Kuro launched himself at Shion, arm outstretched, claws ready to pierce through him. Shion remained standing, motionless, arms at his sides, not moving an inch. Kuro was only a few centimeters away when Shinsei appeared between them in a flash, palms thrust forward, throwing himself in the way with all his strength.
Unfortunately, in the urgency of separating them, one of Kuro's claws caught Shion's right eye, lacerating it into a deep and permanent scar. Shion slowly sank to his knees, both hands pressed against his face, blood streaming between his fingers, agonizing in silence, teeth clenched around a scream he no longer had the strength to let out.
Shinsei spun around immediately, his voice fractured with panic. "Shion, are you alright?" But he froze on the spot when he saw the wound, the blood, the state his brother was in. Something ice-cold cut through his chest.
Kuro, for his part, was first surprised to see Shinsei — he too had disobeyed. But he understood immediately why he had come. He addressed him, his voice tinged with a bitter satisfaction. "From what I can see, you're willing to do anything for Shion. That's always been your way — defying everything for your younger brother."
Shinsei answered, his gaze cold and fists clenched. "I don't know what happened between you two. But I never would have thought you'd go this far for your obsession with our father."
"You too claim to know me and to care about me." His Shugan activated, a murderous aura spreading around him like a suffocating heat. The madness of this confrontation with both his brothers had overtaken him. He was ready for anything.
As Shinsei rose to face Kuro, a hand grabbed his from the ground. It was Shion — his face covered in blood — who, despite the atrocious pain tearing through him, managed to whisper in an exhausted and imploring breath. "Don't hurt him."
Shinsei was caught off guard by the request, his eyes wide. But as Kuro advanced on him, ready to finish it, Shinsei grabbed his arm with a sharp and precise movement, and with a powerful twist sent him spinning through the air, hurling him away with a force that surprised both Shion and Kuro. Kuro crashed heavily into the ground and went still on impact, unconscious.
Shinsei helped Shion to his feet, passing his arm under his shoulders to support him. "We're exposed. We need to get somewhere safe." Together, they left the battlefield, slipping into the shadow of a deserted street where no one was likely to spot them.
The fraternal confrontation was suspended. For now. The battle, however, continued to claim lives and spill blood in every street of Paris.
At the foot of the Eiffel Tower, Nozomi had just lost an eye and could no longer count on Kael — unconscious and wounded — for any help. He found himself in the worst possible situation, alone against Reimu. Defeat seemed inevitable.
And yet, Reimu paused, caught off guard. Nozomi was moving. Slowly, painfully, but he was moving, trying to get back on his feet despite everything he had just endured.
Nozomi removed his jacket and tore it into strips with his teeth and trembling fingers, fashioning a rough bandage that he tied tightly around his left eye to staunch the flow of blood. His limbs were shaking, his remaining vision blurred at intervals, and the pain was still there — unbearable, radiating from his face all the way to his fingertips. Yet after a few moments of effort that cost him everything he had left, he was standing.
Reimu let a look of surprise show, one he made no attempt to hide. He hadn't expected Nozomi to be able to get back up after that. Despite himself, Nozomi rose in his esteem. It would change nothing about the outcome, but it was worth acknowledging. He asked him, with what seemed like genuine curiosity. "Why are you so determined to get back up? Nothing obliges you to protect these people. No matter what you say or do, they are still strangers to you."
Nozomi let out a short, breathless laugh, his shoulders shaking with a pained exhale. "It's not out of obligation — it's by choice that we protect those who cannot protect themselves. It is the will of heroes to give their lives and their energy for others."
"You're telling me nothing new. I was like you once. But after saving everyone who asks for help, you end up realizing it brings you nothing. When it's your turn to need help, the people you saved will never come to your rescue — they abandon you. People exploit heroes as tools, and nothing more."
"If every person you save, you expect them to come to your aid in return… then you cannot call yourself a hero."
Reimu relived an old scene, a memory he thought he had buried. His face grew serious. "Then what does it mean to you, to be a hero?"
"I don't fully know myself yet. It's only been a few months since I became one, so it's still hard for me to put that question into words. But what I am certain of is that your definition of a hero has nothing to do with what I want to become." He paused, his gaze still locked on Reimu, then continued. "I want to be someone who is ready to do anything to come to the aid of others. Someone who could help the most vulnerable. Help those who are desperately waiting for someone to reach out a hand to them."
He looked Reimu straight in the eyes, standing on trembling legs, the bloodstained bandage wrapped around his face, and spoke in a calm and resolute voice. "To become that person, I will get back up every time. Until my life fades out, I will do everything to be the one who brings light to the lives of those living in fear and suffering. That is what it means, to me, to be a hero."
Reimu observed him for a long moment in silence, something indefinable crossing his gaze briefly, before vanishing. "Unfortunately, you will never become that person. I am going to make sure your life fades out today, Nozomi Yuutaka."
Nozomi standing — one eye bandaged, wounded everywhere, alone against the most powerful man he had ever faced. In the shadow of the Eiffel Tower, the question was no longer whether he could win, but how long he could hold on before everything came apart.