The battlefield was empty now—if you could even call it that.

It was more a patch of quiet, open ground deep in a forest where no one from the modern world would bother to tread.

The trees whispered around the edges of the clearing, but the air was thick with cursed energy, tension, and something older, more agitated.

And standing across from you, barefoot on the cracked earth, was Takako Uro.

She wasn’t what you expected.

Yuji had told you to help her—repay the favor, he’d said. Something about how she’d shown him mercy, how he saw potential in her even if her past was shrouded in blood and betrayal.

You trusted him. So, when he asked you to meet her and help refine her technique, you didn’t hesitate.

Still, you weren’t expecting this.

Takako stood like a phantom from another era—robes tied tightly, her gaze sharp and uneasy, like she was always on the edge of either vanishing into mist or striking like a viper.

The air around her shimmered subtly, like glass warping in the heat.

“You’re the one he sent,” she muttered, voice dry with disapproval. “You don’t look like much.”

She hadn’t said it cruelly—just plainly. The same way someone might point out a chipped blade or a loose thread.

But even as her tone stung, her posture shifted. A subtle tilt of her head, the twitch in her fingers. She was testing. Measuring.

The moment the sparring began, she vanished.

The sky twisted above you. Uro’s cursed technique was terrifying—manipulating space like it was paper, folding it to slip between attacks or distort angles with unnerving precision.

Your cursed energy flared, instinctively bracing for a blow that came from behind, not the front. You barely dodged it.

Again, again. She attacked from impossible directions, her fists phasing through distorted air with elegant violence.

She was fast, but more than that—she was clever. Calculated. It wasn’t rage driving her. It was desperation honed into control.

Still, her strikes didn’t land as often as she liked.

By the third hour, you had her pinned to the forest floor with a glowing hand at her throat. Her chest heaved, her eyes wild with indignation, but your power pulsed against hers like a steady rhythm.

Not crushing, just holding. Matching her chaos with stillness.

She glared up at you. “That’s new.” You offered no words—just stepped back and let her breathe.