Flames continued to devour the Fourth Division.
The once-proud compound was now a furnace of chaos, the mixed stench of burning wood and spilled blood clogging the air. Thick black smoke rose endlessly into the night sky, blotting out the moon as wooden structures cracked, groaned, and collapsed under their own weight. The heat pressed down like a living thing, suffocating, inescapable, making even breathing feel like an act of defiance.
At the center of the captain's office, Ueda sat on the floor, his back hunched, his haori soaked with sweat. He gnawed at his fingers compulsively, the sound of teeth cracking bone drowned only by the roar of fire around him.
"I'm dead… I'm dead… I'm dead…" he muttered over and over, eyes wide and unfocused, horror eating away at his sanity.
A stray ember drifted down and landed on his sleeve. It flared briefly before Ukon slapped it out with his bare hand, hissing as his skin burned.
"Captain, get a hold of yourself," Ukon said, gripping Ueda's shoulders tightly, trying to shake him back into reality. His voice was firm, but his eyes betrayed him. Fear lived there too. "Panicking won't save us."
"I'm dead… I'm dead… I'm dead…" Ueda repeated, ignoring him completely.
Ukon released him slowly, his jaw tightening. The fire crept closer, black smoke flooding the room as chunks of the ceiling fell with deafening crashes. It was obvious now. Calming Ueda was pointless.
"Damn it," Ukon muttered, scanning the collapsing office. "They always start with fire. Block the exits, force panic, eliminate escape routes. As expected of Goro… he plans for everything."
His eyes flicked back to Ueda, this time with something cold and calculating. Disdain.
"I'm not dying here," Ukon said quietly. "You're on your own."
Without another word, he turned and ran.
Ueda's head snapped up.
"Where do… you think… you're going?" he stammered, his voice shaking violently.
Realization struck him like a blade.
"DO YOU THINK I'LL DIE ALONE?!" Ueda screamed, scrambling to his feet. His face twisted grotesquely, rage and terror blending into something ugly. "GET BACK HERE, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARD! YOU THINK YOU CAN LEAVE ME AFTER EVERYTHING I'VE DONE?!"
He lurched forward, chasing after Ukon.
CRASH!!
A massive wooden beam fell from above, slamming into Ueda's back and pinning him to the floor. The impact drove the breath from his lungs, his scream breaking into a strangled wheeze.
"COME BACK!!" he howled, clawing uselessly at the floor as Ukon disappeared into the smoke. "COME BACK AND HELP ME, YOU BASTARD!!"
But no one answered.
Only the fire did.
On the western wing of the Fourth Division, Tadatoshi stood amidst the inferno, both swords unsheathed, his stance firm and ready. His presence was sharp, alert, his instincts screaming.
Across from him stood the woman.
"Hm?" she said softly, tilting her head, her lips curving into an alluring smile. "Why so tense, handsome?"
She took a slow step forward, firelight dancing across her radiant blue kimono, accentuating her graceful figure. "Why don't you loosen up a little?"
Tadatoshi's eyes never left her. "What do you take me for?" he said flatly. "For some reason, I sense danger from you. Something far worse than that big one I just killed."
"Big one?" she asked lightly. "You mean Jūrōbei?"
"I don't remember the names of weaklings," Tadatoshi replied without hesitation.
She laughed softly. "Oh my. So you really did kill him. Well… I suppose that's what weaklings get."
Her tone remained calm, but something beneath it hardened.
"Tch. Drop the act," Tadatoshi snapped, tightening his stance. "You're not fooling anyone."
"My, my," she murmured.
In the next instant, she vanished.
Tadatoshi only realized something was wrong when warm fingers brushed his cheek.
His heart lurched.
He leapt back on pure instinct, skidding across scorched ground, eyes wide.
"What… what just happened?" His voice trembled despite himself.
"Hmm?" she said innocently.
She was behind him now.
Tadatoshi stiffened as her hands settled on his shoulders, her breath brushing his ear.
"Why so tense, handsome?" she whispered. "I'm harmless."
Tadatoshi tore himself away, retreating again, fear flashing openly across his face.
"I see," she said calmly. "I forgot to introduce myself."
She stepped forward through the flames with effortless grace. "My name is Hirano Oume."
Her eyes gleamed. "Now that you know… can you finally relax?"
Tadatoshi stared at her, her beauty glowing unnaturally in the firelight, and for the first time since this night began, uncertainty rooted itself in his chest.
South of the Fourth Division, Sentarō stood frozen, staring at the scene before him.
The man showed no regard for the dying samurai beneath him.
He casually bit into his apple, juice dripping down his fingers, as he raised his sword and stabbed again.
"Stop that!" Sentarō shouted, fury tearing from his throat.
The man ignored him.
In a burst of speed, Sentarō grabbed the wounded samurai and pulled him away, dragging him several steps back.
"You're fast," the man said lazily.
Then he disappeared.
In the blink of an eye, he reappeared, placing the samurai back where he had been and sitting on him again.
Sentarō's blood ran cold.
"How…?" His thoughts spiraled. "How is that even possible?"
The blade descended again.
The samurai screamed, his voice breaking as blood poured out, until finally his body went limp.
Sentarō trembled, rage and horror twisting his features.
"See, kid?" the man said calmly. "Even if you saved him, he would've died anyway. Blood loss. So why bother?"
"Shut up!" Sentarō roared. "Who do you think you are, tormenting him like that?!"
The man sighed and stood. "Relax. You're escalating things."
"He's dead now," he continued, tone flat. "Easier to forget and move on."
Sentarō's anger flared even hotter.
"That's not how this works," he said, drawing his sword. "That man's life isn't something you can just forget."
He took a stance, legs spread low, katana raised overhead.
For some unknown reason an image of a figure flickered through the man's mind at Sentarō's words. And that figure raised something unusual, annoyance.
Without assuming a stance, he drew his blade.
Then vanished.
Pain exploded through Sentarō's shoulder.
Blood sprayed as he staggered forward, shock flooding his senses.
"When…?" His thoughts scrambled.
"You dodged that on instinct," the man said, appearing behind him, red eyes glowing in the firelight. "Why go through all the trouble?"
Elsewhere, Ukon ran blindly, lungs burning, legs shaking.
"I need… to get away…" he gasped.
He burst into the courtyard and froze.
An exit.
Tears streamed down his face as hope bloomed. "Finally…"
Then—
WHAM!!
A massive spiked ball on a chain smashed into him.
Ukon's upper body burst apart instantly.
Blood and organs sprayed across the ground as his lower half collapsed uselessly.
The chain retracted.
A dark-blue-haired man in a dark blue kosode and white hakama caught the weapon effortlessly in his palm.
The boss.
He walked calmly toward the burning headquarters.
"The end," he said softly, "is the only fate for those who work against me."