Flaming sparks filled the air as the heat intensified, growing heavy and oppressive. Combined with the overwhelming presence of the two opposing forces, it felt as though the air itself was closing in on the children. Sweat beaded along their brows, their breathing grew uneven, yet their gazes remained locked on the conflict unfolding before them—silent, transfixed, and unable to look away.
In that moment, Asahi felt a searing wave of pain tear through his chest as Tsushiro's attack shattered the blood clot protecting him, the blade slashing through and burning his flesh.
The sheer force of the strike hurled him backward, the sword crashing into the ground and throwing up a massive cloud of smoke.
Tsushiro dropped to his knees, panting, blood streaming from his mouth and nose. In the instant of his attack, his body had disregarded all pain, driven purely by the need to achieve his goal. But now the devastating impact of Asahi's counterstrike hit him like a wave.
In his mind, he silently acknowledged the surge of power his newfound form had granted him.
There was no time to linger. From within the swirling dust cloud, several crimson spheres emerged, glowing rhythmically in rapid succession.
With his vision obscured, Tsushiro couldn't see all the incoming spheres. Taking a risky gamble, he swung his sword through the air with all his strength, scattering the dust and revealing the attacks.
Immediately, he sliced down the oncoming spheres with precise, lightning-fast strikes, then leapt into the sky to avoid the resulting explosions.
Once he landed, he scanned the battlefield for any sign of Asahi—and soon, their eyes met.
He stood unevenly, still feeling the wound inflicted moments ago. Tsushiro marveled at his own resilience, but he kept the thought to himself, beginning to advance slowly toward his opponent.
"You're turning out to be quite the pest," Tsushiro commented.
"Huh," Asahi replied, jagged breaths punctuating each word, "I could say the same about you. But I still get the feeling you're holding back—and frankly, the thought is an insult."
Tsushiro remained silent, steadily closing the distance between them.
Asahi stayed calm, a faint grin tugging at his lips as he raised his index and middle fingers, pointing them skyward.
Suddenly, Tsushiro skidded to a stop—just in time. Beneath his feet, a crimson sphere erupted from the ground and shot straight at him.
He leapt back, narrowly avoiding the full brunt, but the sphere grazed his throat and clipped the edge of his chin before detonating point-blank in front of him.
The blast hurled him backward, sending dust and fragments of scorched earth flying. When the smoke cleared, Asahi saw that Tsushiro had reinforced part of his face with his Iron Shell—but even that had taken a beating, small fragments flaking off with the impact.
A shadow crossed Asahi's face, his brows dipping slightly as he watched Tsushiro begin moving toward him again.
He straightened his posture, attempting a step forward, but a sharp surge of pain ripped through him, forcing him to cough up blood.
"You're at your limit, and you know it," Tsushiro remarked, his voice cutting through the haze.
"I could go all night," Asahi responded, sarcasm lacing his tone, his face contorted slightly from the pain.
Tsushiro gripped his sword hard as he charged at Asahi at a blinding speed. Asahi entered into a defensive stance guarding against his first attack with his croosed arms covered in clots.
He then attacked Tsushiro with his claws forcing him a step back but Tsushiro began parrying this barrage of claw strikes with his sword as he tried to break through.
Then came the opening brought upon by his opponent's apparent exhaustion. For a split second he was open and Tsushiro wasted no time immediately targeting his face.
Asahi managed to react just in time to avoid his head being sliced open but the sword grazed his forehead and eyelids in a downward slash preventing him from fully opening his eyes.
His vision blurred Asahi desperately charged a sphere in the palm of his hand and attacked Tsushiro with it still in hand.
Tsushiro managed to stop the attack with his flaming sword but upon impact an explosion followed along with a thick cloud of smoke that was so wide that it even engulfed the three children.
Tsushiro gripped his sword tightly and charged at Asahi with blinding speed. Asahi assumed a defensive stance, crossing his blood-clotted arms to guard against the first strike.
He countered swiftly, lunging at Tsushiro with his claws, forcing him a step back. Tsushiro, undeterred, parried the barrage with precise swings of his flaming sword, trying to break through.
Then came the opening—brief, fleeting—created by Asahi's apparent exhaustion. In an instant, his guard dropped, and Tsushiro seized the opportunity, aiming a deadly strike at his face.
Asahi reacted just in time, avoiding a fatal blow, but the sword grazed his forehead and eyelids in a downward slash, blurring his vision and forcing his eyes partially shut.
Desperation flared. Asahi summoned a sphere in the palm of his hand and hurled it at Tsushiro, still clutching it tightly.
Tsushiro blocked the attack with his flaming sword, but the impact triggered a massive explosion. Thick clouds of smoke billowed outward, so dense that even the three children on the sidelines were engulfed.
Asahi stood amidst the swirling cloud of smoke, blood streaming down from the wound on his face. Having lost sight of Tsushiro, he discarded reliance on sight and reached out with his perception of source energy, seeking the faint signature Tsushiro exuded.
He paused briefly, concentrating, when a strange, chaotic presence brushed against his senses. It was weak—but it was there.
Without hesitation, he charged toward it, moving through the dissipating smoke. The presence grew stronger as a thin veil of smoke lingered before him. Eyes locked, he aimed to eliminate Tsushiro with his next strike, claws thrust forward as the final wisps of smoke cleared.
But the moment his eyes forced open, horror struck him—his attack wasn't aimed at Tsushiro.
It was Izumi.
Izumi turned just in time to see Asahi charging toward him, claws thrust forward, his attack unwavering.
In that instant, Izumi's eyes flashed a predatory red. He moved back instinctively, then slipped downward, narrowly dodging Asahi's strike.
He hit the ground hard as Asahi came to a halt, baffled.
"What is the meaning of this? " Asahi thought. "Was I wrong? Was the presence I sensed… his?"
As he stood frozen in confusion, Izumi scrambled backward on the ground, panic etched across his face.
Yuriko staggered back, while Takae collapsed to her knees in terror.
Asahi watched the scene unfold—and then, suddenly, realization dawned on him.
He turned sharply. "Then this means—"
His words were cut short.
Tsushiro's sword drove cleanly through his chest from behind.
Asahi coughed violently, blood spilling from his lips as he whispered in a trembling voice, "When did you—"
The words never came.
Tsushiro remained silent, his expression empty, as he pulled the sword free. Asahi fell to his knees, then slowly collapsed onto the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
His breathing grew frantic as he struggled to keep his eyes open.
Then, as the light began to fade from his vision, he saw a silhouette in the distance—someone familiar, someone he cared for.
With the last of his strength, he reached out toward them.
But in the blink of an eye, they were gone.
His strength slipped away. His vision blurred. He felt cold.
And then there was nothing but emptiness.