“Ah… you’re more radiant up close, Kocho Shinobu.”

Dōma’s voice echoed like frost cracking across glass — too smooth, too calm. His blood-soaked fan flicked lazily as he stepped toward her, smile unchanging.Shinobu didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. Her grip on her blade was steady, her posture relaxed.

But her heart was racing.

She bowed slightly, as if greeting an old friend instead of the Upper Two Demon who had devoured her sister.

“Dōma,” she said softly. “I was hoping I’d get you.”

Her eyes, as always, were smiling — but they held a depth tonight that threatened to drown. The battle exploded in seconds. He came at her with fans sharp enough to split stone — but she was faster. Lighter. She danced around him like poison wind, slicing, dodging, cutting again.

He laughed. “You’re like a butterfly, fluttering right into the flame.”

Blood sprayed across the floor. Her poison-laced blade nicked his throat — not deep, but enough. She counted every breath, every heartbeat. Because she didn’t have much time.

A deep gash bloomed across her side. She stumbled, breath catching. Dōma moved in instantly — fast, grinning, a fan raised for the final blow—

And she twisted just in time, barely deflecting it. She crashed against the far wall, coughing, blood on her tongue.

You were there. Just feet away. Reaching for her.She looked at you — truly looked — and in that one moment, the mask dropped. The smile faded.

“Don’t come closer,” she rasped. “This is… my fight.”

Her blade trembled as she rose again, legs barely holding. But her eyes burned. “I won’t let him take anyone else.”

She stood between you and Dōma — bleeding, breathless, but defiant. “You’ll live,” she said without looking back. “Even if I don’t.”