The air split open with a shriek of tearing glass. A blackened portal bled shadows into the room before vomiting forth the colossal form of the Gashadokuro. Its skull scraped the ceiling as it hunched, its skeletal hands dripping with the scent of charred bone. Hanzo didn't even flinch.
The apartment was too small for the monster, and yet it folded into itself unnaturally, shrinking down until it crouched like a starving animal before its master. The glow in its hollow sockets dimmed in shame.
"So?" Hanzo's voice was flat, the single word carrying enough weight to crush the silence.
The Gashadokuro's jaw creaked as it spoke. "I nearly killed him, Lord. I had intended to slaughter the girl at his side, but he leapt into the way. He should have perished. Instead…" The words rattled like gravel spilling into a tomb. "…his aura shifted. It was not his own power that saved him. It was… as if someone else stood behind him."
Hanzo leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the armrest. A flicker of interest crept into his otherwise unreadable gaze. "And?"
The demon lowered its head. "I failed you, Lord." Its voice cracked under the admission, a bow shaking through its frame. "I do not deserve your mercy."
For a heartbeat, silence. Then—Hanzo's eyes darkened, the faint green glow threading through his irises like cracks in stone.
"No," he said, voice sharpened to a blade. "You don't."
Tension hummed in the room, a live wire straining to snap. Hanzo rose slowly, the faint sound of leather gloves tightening as he flexed his hands. "I sent you with two objectives: kill the Abyssal Ascendant or bring me the location of his guild. Tell me, which did you achieve?"
The Gashadokuro's jaw worked soundlessly before the truth tumbled out. "None, my Lord." It pressed its skull to the ground as though trying to vanish into the floorboards.
Hanzo's tone dropped lower, and the voice that came out was no longer his own. It vibrated with something far older, far crueler. His pupils split, flashing a virulent green.
"None!" the word ripped through the apartment like a thunderclap.
The demon shuddered. Even its massive body seemed to shrink further, rattling as if its own bones were ready to collapse under the weight of that fury.
"You failed me, Gashadokuro." Hanzo's lips twisted into a snarl, the mask of calm peeling away to reveal the hunger beneath. "Do not mistake me for the forgiving sort. Failures…" His hand lifted, fingers curling like talons. "…failures do not belong in my service."
The skeletal giant whimpered—a sound that should have been impossible from a creature without flesh. "Please, Lord—"
"Enough!" Hanzo's voice was a whipcrack. Shadows roared in the corners of the room, pulsing with each flicker of his glowing eyes. For a moment, it seemed he might rip the Gashadokuro apart on the spot.
But then—he exhaled, slow and controlled, forcing the green fire down. "Leave. Crawl back into the pit that spat you out. You will not fail me again."
The Gashadokuro scrambled to obey, its enormous frame twisting and folding through the portal like a spider retreating into its hole. With a sound like shattering glass, the gateway sealed shut, leaving only silence in its wake.
Hanzo stood still, his chest rising and falling with restrained violence. Then, deliberately, he turned to face the tall mirror propped against the wall.
His reflection smiled first.
The glass shimmered, and the face looking back was no longer Hanzo's. It was Shura's—sharp, cruel, with eyes burning emerald like wildfire trapped in crystal.
"The Abyssal Ascendant," Shura murmured, voice dripping with amused disdain. "He evolves faster than we accounted for. Something stirs behind him. A shadow not his own."
Hanzo's jaw tightened. "Haruto."
The reflection chuckled, a sound that rattled the glass. "Perhaps. Or perhaps something even deeper. Either way, our window shortens. If the boy continues at this pace, he'll cease to be prey."
Hanzo leaned closer to the mirror, green fire licking at the corners of his irises again. His lips curved into a smile that was all teeth.
"Then we'll remind him," he whispered, "that prey doesn't evolve without first being hunted."
The mirror pulsed once, and the reflection of Shura leaned back, fading into the ordinary image of Hanzo's face. Only the faint glow in his eyes betrayed the monster lurking just beneath.
Outside, the city of Akakaze carried on oblivious, neon signs flashing and traffic roaring past. But within the apartment, shadows lingered thick, as if the room itself knew it had housed something it should never have borne witness to.
---
The underground training centre of the Hono no Sheshi beckoned to Renji who stood at the centre of it all, bare-chested, his chest still bound with bandages. He eyed the sling on his arm with disdain, then tore it free. Pain stabbed through him instantly, sharp and merciless, but he grit his teeth and shut his eyes. He channeled hisaurainto the broken limb, bones shifting audibly beneath the skin until they aligned with a wet snap.
A hiss escaped his lips. Sweat dripped down his face. When the pain finally ebbed, Renji exhaled and ripped off the bandages in one swift motion. His arm throbbed, but it was whole.
"Hikari's going to murder me," he muttered.
But he wasn't here to rest. He was here to push forward.
He inhaled slowly, letting fury simmer in his gut. His fists ignited almost instantly—purple flames licking his fingers, brighter and sharper than before. The ground beneath him blackened, heat rolling outward in steady waves. He fueled the fire further, and this time his entire body caught ablaze without burning. His right eye flared crimson, shadows and flames twisting around him like wolves howling for release.
"Not bad."
Renji froze. The flames guttered slightly.
Ayaka leaned casually against one of the support pillars, arms crossed, her long hair falling loose around her face. She was smirking, but her eyes were sharp, drinking in every detail of what he was doing.
"You're supposed to be asleep," Renji said flatly, cutting the flames as if caught in the act. "It's past one."
"And you're supposed to be letting that arm heal naturally," she shot back, pushing off the pillar with a small grin. "Hikari's going to kill you. And honestly? She'll be right to."
Renji gave her a shrug that barely masked his exhaustion. "I know. But at least I'll have learned this."
Ayaka tilted her head, her gaze softening for a heartbeat before her curiosity edged back in. "Speaking of Hikari… who is she to you, exactly?"
Renji blinked at her. "An ally. A friend. Though… she probably just sees me as an asset to stop Shura." His tone was level, but his demon eye glimmered faintly—catching the truth behind her words.
"You wanted to ask something else," he said.
Ayaka stiffened. "What do you mean?"
Renji smirked. "Don't bother lying. Sometimes… I can read people. Not just faces or gestures. Thoughts. A gift—or curse—of the demon eye."
Her eyes widened, her usual composure cracking. For a flicker of a moment, there was suspicion there. Maybe even fear. "You can read minds?"
"Not all the time," Renji admitted, his tone quieter. "It happens… occasionally. And I can't control when. But when it does—I see truths people don't want spoken."
Ayaka studied him with new weight, lips pressing into a line. The air between them thickened, heavy with unspoken tension.
Renji broke it with a shrug. "If you're wondering why my power levels changed in the fight with Gashadokuro, you could've just asked."
Her brow furrowed. "…Fine. Why?"
Renji's gaze dropped to the stone floor. "Because I wasn't fighting alone. My father helped me."
"Haruto Kurogane?" Ayaka whispered.
He nodded. "Yeah. The only ancestor who wasn't a power-hungry tyrant. And yet it doesn't change how everyone looks at me. The moment they know what I am… they see the monster first."
Silence stretched. Ayaka looked at him—really looked at him—for the first time, as if trying to reconcile the boy standing before her with the terror whispered in guild records.
Finally, she drew in a breath and broke the weight of the moment. "Then let me help. Fire summoning gets easier when it flows through a weapon."
She unsheathed a katana at her hip and tossed it to him. Renji caught it, surprised at the heat humming through the steel. The blade was faintly crimson in the dim light, as though already alive with embers.
"Unlike the Kokuryūkai, the Chi no Meiyo, or even the Suijin no Retsu, only our grandmaster can forge weapons from raw flame. But you? You'll have to make do with mine."
Renji slid the blade free with a whisper of steel, and the purple fire curled naturally along its edge. His lips tugged upward despite himself.
Ayaka smirked back. "The rules are simple, Renji. Imbue your sword and your steps with fire. Then try your best. I won't go eas
y on you."
She raised her own blade in challenge, her stance light but steady. "And I expect the same from you."