Morning arrived in the Swordsmith Village without ceremony.
The forges reignited at first light, their low thunder rolling through the valley like distant surf. Smoke rose in disciplined columns, carrying with it the metallic scent of reborn steel. To most, it was routine—work resuming after danger narrowly averted.
To Karina, it was aftermath.
She stood at the edge of the inner ravine, watching swordsmiths move with renewed urgency. Repairs were already underway where Gyokko's probing assault had scarred the central forge. Ceramic residue had been sealed and removed under Shinobu's strict supervision, every fragment catalogued, every anomaly noted.
Gyokko had not come to destroy.
He had come to confirm.
Karina's Arcane Breathing flowed slowly, deliberately, as she reviewed the engagement again and again—not tactically, but structurally. The demon had altered his attack vectors the moment Mitsuri became destabilized. Not because Mitsuri was weak, but because she mattered.
That distinction disturbed Karina more than she cared to admit.
"Thinking too hard again?"
Mitsuri's voice reached her before her presence did, light but precise. Karina did not turn immediately. She adjusted her stance instead, grounding herself.
"I am recalibrating," she said.
Mitsuri stepped beside her, hands clasped behind her back. Her uniform was freshly mended, pink-and-green haori catching the morning light. She looked rested—outwardly calm—but Karina sensed the tension beneath it. Mitsuri felt it too.
"What did you conclude?" Mitsuri asked.
"That Gyokko will not engage directly again until he can isolate one of us."
Mitsuri blinked. "One of us?"
"Yes."
There it was. The unspoken acknowledgment, now voiced.
Mitsuri exhaled slowly. "Then we shouldn't separate."
"That would be predictable," Karina replied.
Mitsuri tilted her head, studying her. "And separating would be dangerous."
"Yes."
They stood in silence for a moment, the air between them taut but not strained. It was not disagreement. It was alignment struggling to settle into equilibrium.
Before either could continue, Shinobu approached, her footsteps deceptively light. She carried a slim ledger under one arm, her expression composed but sharp-eyed.
"Good," Shinobu said. "You're both awake. That saves me the trouble of hunting you down."
Karina inclined her head. Mitsuri smiled politely. "Good morning, Shinobu."
"Mm," Shinobu replied, already flipping pages. "Karina, I finished reviewing the readings from last night."
Karina turned fully now. "And?"
"And your Arcane output spiked by nearly thirty percent during the illusion collapse," Shinobu said. "Yet your physiological stress markers decreased."
Mitsuri frowned. "That sounds… backwards."
"It is," Shinobu agreed. Her gaze flicked briefly to Mitsuri, then back to Karina. "Unless we account for an external stabilizing factor."
Karina did not respond.
Shinobu closed the ledger. "I assume you're both intelligent enough to draw the same conclusion I have."
Mitsuri's cheeks warmed slightly. "Shinobu—"
"This is not a reprimand," Shinobu cut in smoothly. "It's an observation. One Muzan himself will make if he hasn't already."
That landed heavily.
"Which means," Shinobu continued, "we must treat your proximity as both an asset and a liability."
Karina nodded once. "Agreed."
Mitsuri looked between them, then straightened. "Then we train together."
Shinobu raised an eyebrow. "Direct?"
"Efficient," Mitsuri replied, borrowing Karina's language without irony. "If we're a variable, then we control how it behaves."
Karina studied Mitsuri closely. The proposal was sound. More than that—it was proactive. Mitsuri was not avoiding the risk. She was meeting it head-on.
"That would accelerate adaptation," Karina said.
"And expose weaknesses faster," Shinobu added. "Very well. I'll inform the guards to clear a perimeter."
The training grounds lay beyond the eastern forge line, carved into stone terraces overlooking the valley. By midday, the area had been evacuated and sealed. Only Shinobu remained at the perimeter, observing with clinical focus.
Mitsuri removed her haori and tied it carefully to a post, stretching her shoulders with relaxed precision. Karina mirrored the motion, adjusting the fit of her gloves, Arcane markings faintly visible along her forearms.
They faced each other across the stone platform.
"No holding back?" Mitsuri asked.
"Controlled escalation," Karina replied. "We test thresholds, not egos."
Mitsuri grinned. "I like you more every time you say something terrifying."
They moved.
Mitsuri struck first, her blade snapping forward in a fluid arc designed to test reaction speed rather than force. Karina deflected smoothly, stepping inside the strike's radius with minimal motion. Their blades met once, twice—sparks flashing in sharp bursts.
Karina countered with a feint, Arcane Breathing shifting subtly. Space bent just enough to alter Mitsuri's perception of distance. Mitsuri adapted instantly, twisting her body mid-motion, her blade wrapping around Karina's guard in a maneuver that would have disarmed most opponents.
Karina anticipated it.
She released her grip deliberately, letting the blade slip free, then re-grasped it as it rotated—using the moment of perceived vulnerability to step closer than Mitsuri expected.
Too close.
Mitsuri's breath hitched—not in fear, but surprise. Their momentum carried them into each other, Mitsuri's back brushing the stone wall at the platform's edge.
Karina stopped.
Precisely.
Their proximity was undeniable. Mitsuri could feel the heat radiating from Karina's body, steady and controlled. Karina could feel Mitsuri's heartbeat—fast, but not panicked.
For a fraction of a second, neither moved.
"Is that… part of the test?" Mitsuri asked softly.
"Yes," Karina replied, her voice lower than usual. "Stress proximity. Measure response."
Mitsuri swallowed. "And the results?"
Karina did not step back immediately. "Inconclusive."
Mitsuri's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Then we'll have to repeat it."
They disengaged smoothly, returning to opposite sides of the platform. The training resumed, faster now, sharper. Arcane distortions layered over Love Breathing arcs, the air itself seeming to ripple under the strain.
As the session progressed, something unexpected occurred.
Karina's Arcane forms stabilized further—not merely in power, but in precision. Where previously her techniques risked collateral distortion, now they resolved cleanly, snapping back into place with minimal residue. Mitsuri, in turn, found her own movements synchronizing unconsciously with Karina's rhythm, her strikes aligning with invisible vectors she could not see but instinctively felt.
They were not just adapting.
They were synchronizing.
Shinobu's eyes narrowed as she observed, fingers tightening slightly around her ledger.
This was no ordinary compatibility.
The session ended abruptly when the air pressure shifted.
Karina sensed it first—a ripple, faint but unmistakable. Muzan's attention brushed the edge of the village like a cold shadow.
She froze.
Mitsuri noticed instantly. "Karina?"
"We are being observed," Karina said.
Not by Gyokko.
By something far worse.
The pressure did not manifest physically. There was no distortion, no attack. Just awareness—vast, ancient, assessing.
Muzan Kibutsuji was watching.
Mitsuri felt it then too, a chill sliding down her spine. "He knows."
"Yes," Karina said. "Not everything. But enough."
The presence receded as suddenly as it had come, leaving the air hollow in its wake.
Silence followed.
Mitsuri sheathed her blade slowly. "So what happens now?"
Karina met her gaze, unflinching. "Now he will attempt to break what he cannot control."
Mitsuri stepped closer, her expression resolute rather than afraid. "Then he'll fail."
Karina hesitated—just once—then nodded. "Because we will not allow him to define this bond as weakness."
Mitsuri smiled, soft but fierce. "Good. Because I refuse to be your liability."
"You are not," Karina said immediately. The certainty in her voice surprised them both.
They stood together on the stone platform, the village sprawling beneath them, unaware of how sharply the axis of the war had just shifted.
In the depths of the Infinity Castle, Muzan's eyes narrowed.
Two forces, converging.
Not predator and prey.
But equals.
And that—above all else—was intolerable.