The space between them thinned. The storm had settled, but the air remained thick with something more potent.
Watari gripped Takemikazuchi, feeling the shift in its weight, the way it rested so naturally in his hands. It wasn’t like Takeminakata at all.
Takeminakata needed movement to grow stronger. The more I moved, the heavier it hit. But this…
His fingers tightened slightly.
This doesn’t work like that. This bde isn’t waiting for momentum. It’s waiting for precision.
Across from him, Hitomi stood still, Shirakumo resting in his grip. He hadn’t changed his stance. He hadn’t shifted his posture.
Yet, Watari felt it—the undeniable sensation that Hitomi had already cut him down a hundred times over in his mind.
“Are you ready?”
Hitomi’s voice was soft, but something about it carried weight.
Watari exhaled sharply.
“Yeah.”
Then they moved.
Watari lunged forward, his first strike cutting clean through the air. Faster than anything he could have managed with Takeminakata.
His bde cut straight for Hitomi’s midsection—
—but Hitomi was already gone.
A sudden impact smmed into Watari’s side. He barely saw the shift in mist before the blow connected. His body twisted mid-air, boots skidding against the stone floor as he forced himself upright.
He looked up—Hitomi had barely moved.
He didn’t even counter.
He just adjusted.
Watari gritted his teeth, adjusting his stance.
Another step, another strike.
Takemikazuchi fshed through the mist, its bde keening as wind coiled around it. He struck again, aiming lower—
—but Shirakumo whispered through the air, parrying with an almost zy grace. A small flick of Hitomi’s wrist sent Watari staggering backward.
“You’re still fighting like your old self.” Hitomi’s voice was unreadable. “Takemikazuchi isn’t Takeminakata. Stop treating it like it is.”
Watari’s breathing steadied. He gripped his sword differently this time, lowering his center of gravity.
Hitomi was right.
He wasn’t wielding Takemikazuchi the way it was meant to be wielded.
This wasn’t some greatsword, this was his reibaku.
Takeminakata was force.
Takemikazuchi is precision.
He moved again, but this time, he didn’t try to overpower Hitomi.
He let the bde move with him.
He flowed.
The strike was sharper, cutting through the mist instead of being swallowed by it.
Hitomi tilted his head slightly—
—and for the first time, he actually blocked.
The csh rang through the hall. A pulse of wind burst outward from the impact.
Watari barely had time to register that he had nded a proper strike before Hitomi shifted his weight, twisting Shirakumo to deflect.
But Watari moved with it.
He was already pivoting, already adjusting to his new footing.
He sshed again.
This time, it wasn’t blocked cleanly.
Hitomi moved, but his sleeve bore the faintest cut.
Ayase smirked and muttered, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that.”
A flicker of something—approval, perhaps—fshed across Hitomi’s face.
Then Shirakumo moved like a specter.
Mist thickened. The air grew heavier.
Hitomi stepped forward, and for the first time, Watari saw it.
He’s not dodging.
He’s flowing.
Hitomi moved like drifting fog, his bde an extension of the air itself.
Where Watari pushed, he pulled.
Where Watari struck, he redirected.
It was effortless, terrifyingly so.
Watari barely saw the next strike coming before it sent him stumbling.
Then another.
And another.
He forced himself back to his feet, gripping Takemikazuchi tighter.
He could feel the wind crackling through it, waiting.
It’s not about force.
It’s about the moment.
Watari took a breath.
Then he moved again.
He didn’t just swing.
He let Takemikazuchi guide him.
The wind coiled around his feet, pushing his speed further.
He saw Hitomi shift, saw the mist move—
—but this time, he anticipated it.
He struck—
—but lighter.
Sharper.
Hitomi’s eyes flickered, and for the first time, he parried with full force.
The impact split the mist apart, a powerful gust rushing outward.
Their eyes locked.
Then they cshed for real.
A blur of steel.
Wind and mist tangled in a violent, elegant dispy.
Watari’s bde moved faster than before, his strikes cleaner, more refined.
Takemikazuchi roared, answering his call.
Hitomi remained unreadable, but his movements adjusted—his bde now met Watari’s with equal measure.
One ssh.
Two.
Three.
Then—
CLAP.
The entire room froze.
The sheer force of Ayase’s single cp sent vibrations through the air, dispersing the mist, stilling the wind.
The impact wasn’t just sound—
—it was like the very air obeyed his command, crashing down on them like a tidal wave.
The energy that had filled the space only moments ago vanished like a fme snuffed out.
The weight of the battle was gone in an instant.
Hitomi stepped back smoothly, sheathing Shirakumo.
Watari exhaled, heavier than he realized.
His body was still charged, still ready to keep going.
But he stopped.
“That’s enough.”
Ayase’s voice carried through the silence, his tone absolute.
Watari’s grip on Takemikazuchi loosened, his breath steadying.
The fight was over.
For now.
?
Ren watched as Watari’s body finally gave out.
He had pushed himself further than ever before, and yet—
That moment.
Takemikazuchi.
That shouldn’t have happened.
Ren’s fingers curled slightly.
He had seen Yumi control Kiyohime.
Akira harness Raikou.
Ryuko sharpen Erebus.
His own connection with Tsukuyomi had solidified.
But this?
This wasn’t the same.
Watari didn’t just learn how to control Takeminakata.
He left it behind.
His Tamashkii evolved.
And the only reason he was able to—
Ren’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Is it because of when I activated his core? That g?
A realization settled in, weighty but incomplete.
It didn’t make sense yet.
But it would.
Soon.
Cut to bck.
