This wasn't a mission gone wrong. This was an entrapment crafted by people leagues beyond his reach—beings not even A-rank ninja dared to fight alone. An organization bold enough to threaten even Niri. They'd lose, yes… but they had the power to try.
The thought slammed into him.
If I'm going to run, it has to be now.
The word repeated in his head like a scream.
Run. Run. RUN!
But his face remained blank, detached—masking the storm behind his eyes.
And then—he moved.
A crouch. Instant. The floor cracked under the pressure.
He launched forward.
His hand shot to his waist, fingers gripping the Kurugisama, rope still looped around his wrist. He dragged the weighted end low and fast, slinging it toward Tanzegtsu in a tight arc—hoping to buy a second.
Just one second.
But Tanzegtsu didn't flinch.
His eyes were still closed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. His hand resting gently on the hilt of his blade.
Then—click.
Just a slight nudge of his thumb.
The sword barely unsheathed—only enough for moonlight to kiss the metal.
BOOM.
The air detonated.
Haru's body was blown backward like a ragdoll, crashing through the paper wall.
He wasn't in the room anymore.
He was falling.
Down, down into an impossible space.
A void.
Buildings floated upside down. Doors opened into more doors. Trees swayed midair, gardens bloomed sideways. The entire dimension bent in ways that defied gravity, logic, or understanding.
Haru's eyes widened.
His body tumbled, his Kurugisama spinning in different directions, caught in the chaotic drift of the space.
Debris fell with him—broken tatami, shattered wood, ink-soaked paper.
The silence of the void was broken only by his fall, the whistling of wind, and the echo of Tanzegtsu's power.
What is this place?
His mind reeled.
A floating realm. A fractured space.
He wasn't just trapped.
He had been caged in a different reality entirely.
The air whipped past Haru as he tumbled through the void—endlessly falling.
The purple hue of the space flickered around him, casting warped shadows across floating shrines, shattered bridges, and twisting garden paths suspended in nothingness. Buildings levitated like forgotten memories, tilted and broken, offering no safe place to land… or hide.
There was nowhere to duck.
No surface to grab.
Just him—and gravity that made no sense.
A normal would die here.
Someone without a honeki would be dust by the time they hit whatever passed for a ground in this twisted realm.
But Haru's eyes remained closed, his face pale, suspended upside-down in slow, surreal descent.
A thought crawled through his mind like a whisper:
"There's no way I'd die. They want me alive."
And then—clarity.
This wasn't about escape.
This wasn't a trap meant to kill him.
Tanzegtsu wasn't his executioner—he was a staller.
His job wasn't to break Haru or torture him or extract anything.
It was simple: buy time.
Time for the real threat to arrive.
Haru's heart slowed. The chaos around him didn't matter anymore.
This place… this space… it belonged to them.
They had full control. Tanzegtsu could kill brain cells with a flick of his thumb. If Haru died here, it wouldn't matter. They'd bring him back. Fix the body. Reset the mind.
He was never meant to die here.
He was meant to stay.
And that's when it hit him harder than any fall could—
Survival wasn't just about avoiding death anymore.
It was about not falling apart.
Not losing himself.
Not giving them time.
He clenched his fists mid-air, the Kurugisama rope tightening around his wrist, whipping in the void.
He wasn't escaping.
He was going to endure.
If they were going to bring him back—he'd make sure they regret every second of it.
Just then—a massive structure drifted beneath him, silent in the void.
A dojo hall, wide and open with no walls, floated mid-air like some ancient memory, its wooden floor catching faint glimmers of the flickering purple light. A space without gravity, without logic—but real enough to land on.
Haru's eyes snapped open.
As the air rushed past him, he saw it—the floor.
Whip.
In a fluid motion, he flung his Kurugisama, the rope still tied to his palm, the blade spinning sharply as it cut through the air. It hooked deep into the wooden floorboards—THUNK—and the rope went taut.
The jolt nearly ripped his shoulder out of place, his body yanked violently midair. His feet swung forward, chest twisting as he used the momentum.
SLAM.
He crashed onto the dojo floor, rolling roughly to a stop, dust rising around him. Breath shallow. Muscles aching. But—alive.
The Kurugisama rope lay stretched beside him, trembling slightly from the impact.
All around him, the vast space remained endless, surreal—floating doors, inverted buildings, gardens adrift like pieces of dreams. No walls. No sky. Just void.
Haru lay still, staring at the purple-lit ceiling far above.
Soon, He struggled upright—one knee down, the other leg crouched beneath him—his breath shallow, hand gripping his arm tightly. The dojo floor creaked softly beneath him, floating in the endless void of suspended temples and drifting gardens. He scanned the horizon, trying to understand the madness around him.
Then—
A shadow.
Above him, Tanzegtsu descended like a falling god—his form controlled, elegant, terrifying. His sword was drawn, angled downward in a perfect striking pose. He wasn't falling—he meant to descend, Not flinched by the gravity pulling him.
With a thunderous clang, his blade struck the wooden floor first, sending a shockwave of wind across the platform. He landed in a crouch, unfazed. Slowly, he rose—hair unbound and wild from the fall, haori fluttering in the invisible breeze of this surreal space.
His pale eyes opened, locked onto Haru. The Honest Young kid was gone, Now.. He's Tanzegtsu the swordmaster.
"Haru sama, what's this? Are you persistent?"
A faint smile riding on his lips.