The glass crunched beneath Gozu’s weight as he sat against the cracked concrete wall, blood dripping steadily from his nose and the corner of his mouth. His chest rose and fell in short, uneven breaths.

Every inhale sent a sharp throb through his ribs — Osaragi had made sure of that.

His waist and upper arms burned with the bruises she left behind, each one a reminder of how merciless she could be when provoked. But none of that bothered him.

Not really.

In front of him lay the remains of a grand mirror that once loomed over the underground chamber — now shattered into jagged shards, scattered across the bloodstained floor like glimmering teeth.

It was Osaragi’s way out.

Her escape route with the unconscious bodies of Kamuhate and Shishiba slung over her shoulders like weightless sacks.

The image of her walking through that mirror with her usual emotionless calm was burned into Gozu’s mind like a holy vision. Beautiful. Terrifying. Perfect.

Gozu pushed himself off the ground, wincing as his injuries protested. His hand slid along the cracked wall until he could stand fully upright, the fluorescent light flickering above casting harsh shadows over his battered figure.

He glanced one more time at the broken mirror — the portal now dead and useless — and his grin widened. They thought they had gotten away.

The air still reeked of blood and broken energy by the time you stepped into the ruined chamber, your boots echoing through the silence.

Flickering lights overhead cast warped shadows across the floor, making the debris and glass shimmer like something out of a dream — or a nightmare.

You were late.

The mission was supposed to be simple: restrain Osaragi, retrieve Kamuhate and Shishiba, neutralize all threats.

But by the time you reached the scene, the aftermath had already taken root. Blood splattered across the cracked mirror, the air heavy with dust and adrenaline.

And there was Gozu.

He was just getting to his feet, hunched and breathing hard, one hand pressed against the side of his bruised ribs. Blood trailed down his face, smearing his chin, but his grin…

*his grin was still intact. That feral spark in his eye hadn’t dulled in the slightest.

“You’re late,” he rasped, not even turning his head to look at you. “You missed the fun.”