The silence after the battle in the Council Hall was louder than any explosion. It was oppressive with the weight of realization: the enemy they faced was fundamental, like a law of nature. It could not be killed with a sword or magic. It was death itself for their world.
Akira did not go to the infirmary. His wound—a perfectly round hole in his chest, through which the opposite wall was visible—did not bleed or cause pain. It was simply... a fact. A physical reminder of the collision with Nothing. He sat in a deserted pavilion on the outskirts of the "Tenran" garden, gazing at the pond. The carp, sensing his presence, huddled in the depths.
Shiori approached him. She carried two scrolls—one old and worn, the other fresh, with the Himeji clan seal.
"They have decided your fate," her voice was weary. She handed him the fresh scroll. "Officially: 'Mushiro' Akira is recognized as a strategic asset in the fight against the anomaly 'Kureina.' He is granted temporary status as a 'Special Operative' under the joint supervision of the Fujibayashi and Himeji clans."
Akira took the scroll without looking. "And unofficially?"
"Unofficially, you are a scapegoat and cannon fodder. If we win—you will be quietly eliminated as a reminder of our helplessness. If we lose... you'll be the first to be devoured."
"Fair," Akira turned to her. "And this?" he nodded at the old scroll.
"This—is what will likely get us executed. My grandfather's report on Project 'Kureina.' Not the official one, but his personal journal. Fujibayashi-sensei... my father... ordered all copies destroyed. I found this one in my mother's hiding place."
She unrolled the scroll. The paper was covered in a nervous, hurried handwriting.
«...The experiment on Kokuro inversion yielded an unexpected result. Instead of creating Scars, the subject began to absorb them. First weak ones, then stronger. We named it 'Kureina'—Void. It does not destroy Scars, but assimilates them, becoming their absolute master. We thought we controlled it through ritual anchor-Scars... Fools...»
«...Today 'Kureina' absorbed the Scar of a historical earthquake. It did not reproduce it. It became it. Reality trembled within a hundred-meter radius. We barely stabilized...»
«...It is evolving. It has developed... not a goal, but an instinct. It seeks the opposite. One who bears no Scars. Absolute void, to unite and become the new fabric of existence. We have not created a weapon. We have created a god... or a devil...»
Akira slowly raised his eyes from the scroll. "They didn't just erase its Scar. They erased its very essence. Its 'self.' And now this 'instinct' is all that remains. A hungry dream."
"Yes," Shiori whispered. "And now that dream sees you."
At that moment, the air trembled again. But this time, it was not an attack. It was a challenge.
On the other side of the pond, on a smooth boulder, stood Kaede Himeji. Her crimson kimono had been exchanged for practical battle hakama of the same color. Her long hair was tightly tied back. In her hands she held not a sword, but a black lacquer fan.
"Mushiro," her voice was clear and cut through the silence like a blade. "The Council has decreed that your capabilities be studied. Come out. Show us what 'absolute void' is capable of."
Ryūnosuke Morohashi, watching from the gallery, smirked.
"Found time for games, Himeji? After the monster nearly ate us all?"
"This is not a game," Kaede retorted coldly. "If he is our only shield, I must understand its strength. And its limits."
Akira understood. This wasn't just a sparring match. It was an interrogation clothed as a fight. Kaede, whose power was control over reality, had encountered one who was outside her control. It was driving her mad. She needed data. Variables for her equations.
He silently stood and walked out to the open area before the pond.
"Don't do this," Shiori said quietly. "She won't hold back."
"I know," Akira replied.
They stood facing each other. Ten meters of distance. A whole world of difference.
"I will not use lethal techniques," Kaede declared. "Only restraining ones."
"Useless," said Akira. "You cannot restrain what is not there."
"We shall see."
She didn't even move. She simply looked at him.
"Kokuro: Crimson Loop of Fate — Seven Cycles of Imprisonment."
The air around Akira thickened. He felt reality trying to form seven layers of cause-and-effect loops around him. First loop: "Your next step will return you to the starting position." Second: "Your breathing is now cyclical and brings no oxygen." Third: "The strength of your muscles is limited to 1% of normal."
It was exquisite torture. She wasn't attacking his body. She was attacking the most basic laws of his existence in this world.
And it failed.
Akira took a step forward. He breathed evenly. His muscles worked at full strength. The loops meant to ensnare reality itself broke, finding nothing to latch onto. He was a "blind spot" in her logic.
Kaede's face remained impassive, but a flicker of excitement lit her eyes. Finally, an interesting problem.
"Very well. Then we test direct impact."
She snapped her fan.
"Kokuro: Crimson Loop of Fate — Strike of Reflected Fate."
She did not attack him. She attacked... his past. Or rather, the Scar from his recent collision with the Void.
Akira felt it. The hole in his chest... ached. Not physically, but conceptually. Kaede was trying to rewrite reality so that the consequences of that collision would be fatal for him. To make the wound "exist" in truth.
For the first time in a long while, Akira felt something akin to strain. His Mushiro nature automatically rejected this attack, but it was subtler, more dangerous. It tried not to create a Scar in him, but to reawaken a trace already inflicted from outside.
He did not evade. He pressed forward. Taking another step, he came within centimeters of Kaede.
Her eyes widened in astonishment. No one had ever gotten this close to her during a fight. No one could.
"Your power is magnificent, Himeji-san," he said quietly, looking into her shocked eyes. "But you are trying to change the history of a book in which my page never existed."
He raised his hand. Not to strike. He simply ran his finger along the edge of her fan.
And the fan... did not break. It did not change. But Kaede felt, for an instant, her connection to this object, to all the Scars she had placed upon it—completely vanish. It became just a piece of wood and paper.
She recoiled, genuinely frightened for the first time in many years.
Akira lowered his hand.
"You study me. And I study you. You are all bound by your Scars. That is your strength. And your vulnerability. 'Kureina' feeds on that bond. I do not. But I am beginning to understand how it is wielded."
He turned and walked away again, leaving her alone in the middle of the garden—defeated not by force, but by understanding.
Ryūnosuke jumped down from the gallery, looking mockingly at Kaede.
"Well? Did you find the limits of his endurance?"
Kaede, still trembling, looked up at him. Her eyes held neither malice nor humiliation. Only cold, crystalline clarity.
"No," she whispered. "I found something worse. His endurance has no limits. But that is not the main thing. The main thing... he is learning."