The streets of Tokyo lay in ruins. The aftermath of cursed spirit surges and Simurian clashes had left shattered concrete, twisted metal, and the faint smell of burned energy lingering in the air. Smoke rose in thin plumes from collapsed buildings, and the city seemed to groan under the weight of human error and alien intervention alike.
Yuka stood at the center of the devastation, eyes fixed on Dabura. He towered above the rubble like a living storm, claws glinting in the pale moonlight, energy rippling outward with every breath. The air around him shimmered with a terrifying intensity, enough to destabilize the ground beneath her feet.
"This…" she whispered, voice trembling but steady. "This is what it means to protect everything…"
Tsurugi moved to her side, sword drawn, cursed energy flaring faintly around him. "Yuka… we can't—"
"I volunteer," Yuka interrupted, her gaze unflinching. "I'm the one who should face him."
Yutsumi stepped forward immediately, Adaptive Perfect Copy instinctively flaring as he read her energy, feeling the intensity of her resolve. "No, Yuka! I can—"
"Stop!" Yuka snapped, her hand pressing gently but firmly against his chest. "You're my brother. You have a power I can't control yet. You adapt. You survive. I… I don't have that luxury."
Her words hung heavy in the ruined air. Yutsumi felt the weight of responsibility press down, heavier than any cursed technique could manage. Her resolve was absolute, a shield forged from love, protection, and a brother complex that refused to let him step into danger unnecessarily.
Tsurugi's jaw tightened. "She's stubborn. But she's right… strategically, this is the best chance."
Maru stepped forward, his third eye still closed but sensing the shifting tides of energy. "Yuka… understand the stakes. This isn't a fight of strength alone. Dabura's control over Mul and cursed energy exceeds any single human or Simurian's capacity."
Yuka nodded. "I know. But if I falter, humanity—and our coexistence with Simurians—falters too."
Dabura's laughter echoed, low and rumbling. "So, the humans send a child to face me… how poetic." His claws scraped the ground, sending fissures through the rubble. "Come, little warrior. Let us see what courage can do against power."
As she stepped forward, a faint energy shimmer pulsed around Yutsumi. Adaptive Perfect Copy was reading Dabura's energy through her, analyzing patterns, preparing contingencies.
"Yutsumi," Yuka whispered, barely audible. "Watch. Learn. Survive."
Her energy flared, bright and fierce, a manifestation of the cursed ring Yuta had once wielded and passed down through the family lineage. The glow illuminated the destruction, casting long, determined shadows.
Tsurugi moved alongside her, sword poised, energy aligned to stabilize and support—but Yuka's cursed energy surged independently, refusing containment. It was raw, dangerous, and magnificent.
Meanwhile, across the battlefield, Maru and Cross's past resurfaced in flashback.
Years ago, orphaned after their village was destroyed by the Des Kunte tribe, the twins were taken in by Doura. He was building a canal, not just as a shortcut, but as a sanctuary for the sacred Karyan creatures revered by their tribe. Maru and Cross's father had died protecting what they believed were sacred Mul stones—stones that, unbeknownst to them at the time, were ordinary rocks.
Maru had hidden this truth, letting Cross believe in the narrative to preserve his drive and identity. And now, decades later, those old decisions echoed in the chaos of Tokyo.
Back in the present, Tsurugi's eyes widened as he noticed something odd. Yutsumi's cursed energy was reacting subtly—not to the Mul, not to Dabura directly—but to the ambient resonance in the ruins.
"Wait… Yutsumi," Tsurugi said softly. "Your energy… it's connected to the Simurians. Not just adaptive. It's… drawing from them, from the Mul, from their presence above Earth."
Yutsumi's eyes flickered. "I… I didn't realize. I just… felt it."
Tsurugi's expression hardened. "That's why they allowed you to exist. You're not just a copy of Yuta's technique. You're… something else. A bridge."
Yuka roared in the distance, energy flaring as she summoned Mahoraga, her body glowing with power that refused to be contained. Dabura countered with devastating waves of energy, manipulating space itself to try to crush her resolve.
Yutsumi's body tensed. Adaptive Perfect Copy surged, scanning patterns in both Yuka's and Dabura's cursed energy, preparing to intervene if necessary—but he respected her choice. She had decided to act, and he could only support her from a distance until the right moment.
Maru watched silently. "She's carrying the weight of more than just her own life. This is a sacrifice that could determine the course of coexistence between humans and Simurians."
The clash of powers sent shockwaves through the city. Buildings trembled, streets cracked, and faint echoes of Mul resonated through the air. Yutsumi adjusted his stance, prepared for the first true test of his ability to protect and harmonize energy on such a scale.
Yuka's voice carried over the din. "I won't fail! For humanity! For our people! For… you!"
Her gaze flickered toward him, a mixture of determination, love, and an unyielding brother complex that anchored Yutsumi's adaptive energy. It wasn't just instinct. It was connection, the invisible thread that tied their fates together.
Dabura's claws lashed again, slicing through the energy waves. Yuka countered, moving with Mahoraga fused partially, her speed and precision honed through inherited technique and sheer will.
Tsurugi supported from the side, his sword infused with Rika's energy, carving paths through residual cursed energy, stabilizing the battlefield for Yuka to continue her assault.
Yutsumi's eyes narrowed. Every pulse, every strike, every defensive maneuver was analyzed, mirrored, and prepared for adaptation. He could intervene—but he also knew some battles were meant to be lessons, not rescues. Yuka's resolve had to remain absolute.
Maru's gaze shifted toward Yutsumi. "This is your crucible, child. Observe, learn, and be ready."
And for the first time, Yutsumi realized that survival was not just about copying energy. It was about understanding intent, maintaining connection, and knowing when to act—not just to mirror, but to harmonize the flow of life around him.
The city trembled beneath the clash of wills. Yuka's sacrifice illuminated the night, Tsurugi's support anchored the battle, and Yutsumi's adaptive presence watched silently, readying for the moment when he would have to act.
And somewhere above, the Simurian mothership shifted, as if sensing the balance of power tilting toward a fragile equilibrium.
Tokyo held its breath.