In this world, every warrior possessed a unique fighting technique known as Gijutsu. These techniques were innate, reflecting the warrior's essence and style.
Akihiro Takeda stood amid a ruin of corpses and frost, the rising sun catching on the jagged line of his jaw and the cold steel in his eyes. Blood clung to his tattered coat like rusted paint—some his own, most not. Around him, the ground was painted in red, layered with snow and ash. His breath steamed in the morning cold, curling like smoke from a forge.
Opposite him, Shirahoshi Ume stood barefoot atop the body of a dead mercenary. Snow fell on her pale shoulders, her kimono-style combat garb fluttering with each wind gust. Her face, beautiful in an eerie, unblinking way, was half-shrouded in a veil. Her movements betrayed no fear—only the quiet confidence of someone who'd killed many and lived to enjoy it.
Without a word, they moved.
Akihiro lunged first.
His right foot dug deep into the snow, cracking frozen earth as he surged forward. With a swift flick of his wrist, he grabbed a length of rusted chain dangling from a corpse's arm. It spun in a wide arc, gleaming with frost, transforming mid-motion into a whip. He brought it down with a roar, the links whistling through the air like a buzzsaw.
Shirahoshi leaned back, the chain slicing a hair's breadth from her face. Her body bent impossibly far, spine arched like a ribbon in wind. In one motion, she slid beneath the chain's path and threw a burst of silver needles from her sleeves.
Akihiro's instincts screamed.
He raised a broken slab of armor torn from a fallen war machine—its edges jagged, the surface cracked. The needles thudded into the makeshift shield with soft pings, some ricocheting, others embedding deep.
One needle grazed his shoulder.
He felt it instantly. A burn. The skin around the puncture tightened. Poison.
He dropped the shield and surged forward.
"Too slow," Shirahoshi said.
He turned his body, letting the momentum twist him into a spin-kick. She ducked under it and pivoted, striking upward with a thin, poisoned blade concealed in her sleeve. Akihiro twisted again, deflecting it with the chain. It wrapped around her wrist. His eyes flared.
He pulled.
She flew toward him like a dart—but at the last second, she twisted midair, catching her foot on his chest and launching off it, flipping back.
The chain snapped.
Akihiro cursed, now holding only a frayed length.
Before he could recover, she dashed in again, gliding low over the snow like a phantom. Her hand brushed the earth—scooping powder from a broken vial—and flung it in a cloud of glittering pink haze.
Contact would mean paralysis.
Akihiro used the corpse beside him—grabbing it by the neck and spinning it like a shield. The powder coated the dead man's body. He dropped it and vaulted over, landing behind her.
He reached out—hand open—and yanked a spear lodged in a corpse's abdomen.
In the same motion, he spun and stabbed.
Shirahoshi twisted aside, the spear tip grazing her cheek. Blood streaked across her face like crimson paint.
She smiled.
"You're more fun than they said."
The spear clashed with a concealed dagger.
The weapons rang out with a screech of metal. Then she ducked low, sliding across the frozen mud between his legs. From her boot, a needle emerged on a spring and sliced his calf. A burst of pain jolted up his leg.
He gritted his teeth and flipped backward.
She was already in motion again, throwing a razor-edged fan laced with neurotoxin. Akihiro caught it mid-spin using the severed hand of a dead body, flung it back, and charged.
They clashed beneath a shattered tree, their weapons ringing like thunderclaps. Akihiro switched between spear strikes and wild swings, every item around him a potential deathblow. He parried a dagger with the broken hilt of a gun, deflected a poison needle using a snapped bowstring, then jabbed with a forked piece of armor—forcing her to flip backward and land atop a corpse-strewn mound.
They were breathing hard now.
Their battlefield was a field of death. The ground was uneven—limbs, weapons, shattered helmets—and both of them used it all.
Shirahoshi sprinted up a ruined slope, scattering a trail of toxins from her fingertips. Akihiro pursued, sliding under one poisoned trap, using a snapped tree branch as a staff. She turned sharply, vaulting off a corpse, and landed behind him.
She slashed.
He blocked with the branch, but her dagger pierced his side, leaving a long, shallow cut. Blood spilled into the snow.
He responded with a reverse elbow—catching her across the jaw. She stumbled back. Akihiro, bloodied and grim, spun and smashed the branch into her stomach, sending her crashing through the brittle remains of a burnt-out bunker.
The snow swallowed her impact.
He advanced—only for a cloud of black mist to rise from the rubble.
Poison smoke.
He leapt through it, holding his breath. When he emerged—Shirahoshi was waiting, needle in hand, already stabbing toward his neck.
He caught her wrist mid-strike.
They stared at each other, nose to nose.
"Fighting you is fun," he said flatly.
"I could say the same for you," she whispered.
She headbutted him. He reeled. She slashed his chest open—ripping through the layers of his coat, blood spurting across her face.
He retaliated by grabbing a nearby shovel from the ground and smashing it into her ribs.
They separated. Both injured. Both smiling.
This wasn't over.
"You have quiet the interesting gijutsu, being able to turn anything into a weapon like that" shirahoshi said smugly
"Yours isn't anything special, poison is a common gijutsu. However you are the first one I have ever met who can fight close combat while still making use of her poisons." Akihiro replied
"Wow I'm getting acknowledged by a Takeda, how lucky I am. But when are you going to stop the crap and show me those inverted eyes of yours?"
"Don't flatter yourself, you can't push me that far for me to use it" Akihiro replied cockily
They vanished in opposite directions—disappearing into the storm, only to crash into each other again seconds later in a different sector of the island. Their battle was a blur—across ruins, cliffs, snowy hills, and dead forests—leaving trails of blood, broken weapons, and shattered bodies behind them.
Meanwhile….
The snow fell thicker now—soft, quiet flakes descending like ash upon a grave. The sky above was a dull, iron gray, and the wind howled through the skeletal trees that bordered the ruined battlefield. The world was cold, but Ren's body burned.
His breath came slow and steady as he stood across from Erika Sannomiya and Yusuke Hanazawa, the white powder around them churned into slush from the violent clash that was yet to truly begin. Bodies littered the perimeter—frozen, broken things—used and discarded like props in a stage play of death.
Erika giggled, her violet eyes wide with ecstasy. Her lips were cracked, painted red not with lipstick but blood. In one hand, she twirled a glass vial between her fingers like a dancer with a ribbon. "Ren… my sweet, beautiful Ren… I'll burn the world to see you smile."
He didn't respond. His eyes stayed on her centerline, reading her stance. He already felt the sting of her toxins on his cheek, a blistered welt forming just beneath his right eye. His black sweatshirt clung to his bloodied body—torn, seared, ripped, her gijutsu seemed to be chemical related, She called it Vermillion Bloom—her Gijutsu bloomed with every shattered vial. The fabric hissed as snow landed on the scorched spots.
And then, she attacked.
Erika moved like a serpent, her boots gliding over the snow as she flung the vial toward him. It shattered mid-air—Ren had already moved—releasing a hissing pink gas that ate through the snow like acid. He ducked low, slicing with his katana through the rising mist, and caught the glint of Yusuke's blade coming from his left.
Clang!
Steel met steel. Ren pivoted on one foot, the other slamming into Yusuke's ribs with a crushing side-kick that sent him sprawling into a half-frozen corpse, bones crunching beneath his weight.
"You're still so cold to me…" Erika whispered, stalking behind Ren. Her arms flared wide—thin, silver needles launched from a hidden wrist rig. Ren twisted, his katana a blur as he slashed through the flurry. One grazed his neck. Another embedded in his left arm.
She pounced. He blocked with the flat of his blade, but Erika was too close now. Her body crashed into his like a lover's embrace—one hand gripping his face, the other slithering behind his head.
And then she licked him.
Her tongue traced the cut on his jaw with perverse affection.
Ren recoiled in disgust, slamming his forehead into hers with a brutal crack. She staggered back, laughing, blood running from her nose.
"You taste like divinity. Let's kill everyone and build a home from their bones."
Ren wiped his jaw with his sleeve. "You're sick."
"Only for you."
"Sorry to break it to you, but your not my type"
Shnk!
Yusuke again. Dagger slid along Ren's ribs—cutting deep.
Ren turned. Elbowed his temple. Knee to the gut—lifted him off the ground. Then a spin—katana reversed— the hilt smashed into Yusuke's sternum and sent him flying.
But Erika was already moving. She flipped onto a shattered roof, canisters in hand.
Ren followed— crash! Snow blasted underfoot as he landed behind her.
She smashed both canisters down.
Green mist exploded outward.
Ren closed his eyes. Felt the air shift. A step—behind him!
He dropped low. Swept her legs. Erika flipped mid-air—landed on a broken pillar.
Ren lunged.
She leapt.
Yusuke came from the tree line.
Above.
Erika below. Yusuke above. A deadly pincer.
Yusuke slashed—Ren blocked high.
Erika flung pellets—Ren rolled left.
Boom! Shrapnel carved through his back. His sweatshirt ripped to shreds—revealing the dark compression shirt beneath, soaked in blood, clinging to muscle.
"You're even more beautiful like this," Erika breathed. "Like a fallen god. I'll skin the world just to make you smile."
Yusuke landed beside her, panting. "Focus, Erika."
"I am. I'm focused on making him mine."
They came together now.
No more tests.
Tag-teaming—tight, fluid. Yusuke feinted left—Erika struck high. Ren blocked one, dodged the other—Yusuke's sweep caught his ankle. He jumped—twisted mid-air—landed in a crouch.
Yusuke lunged again.
Erika mirrored his timing—her heel aiming for Ren's spine.
He dropped his katana.
Switched gears.
Fast.
He caught Yusuke's wrist mid-strike—flipped him over his shoulder—his other hand shot back, catching Erika's ankle mid-kick.
She gasped.
He yanked her down—she flipped mid-fall—landed on her palms—used her momentum to vault off his shoulder. Yusuke surged back.
Hand to hand combat now.
No weapons.
Yusuke threw a rapid flurry—Ren parried. Blocked. Slipped inside and hammered a fist to his ribs. Erika came from behind—high spinning kick—
Ren ducked. Grabbed her leg. Twisted. She flipped—landed—jabbed needles from a gauntlet—
Ren bent backward—the tips missed his eye by a breath—then he countered with a rising knee. Erika blocked—barely.
Yusuke spun—axe kick toward Ren's head.
Ren caught it mid-air, with one hand.
Twisted.
Threw him.
Erika used the distraction—jabbed low. Ren twisted his hips—blocked with a forearm—retaliated with a shoulder-check that knocked her off balance.
Then—
Three seconds of chaos.
Ren punched. Erika ducked. Yusuke swept. Ren leapt over the sweep. Spun. Backfist to Yusuke, Erika grabbed Ren from behind—he rolled forward, flinging her off. Yusuke closed the gap. Ren parried. Side-step—elbow—Erika kneed him mid-turn.
Ren staggered back. Blood on his lips. Chest heaving.
They came again.
Faster.
Perfect sync. Like they had worked together their entire lives.
Yusuke jabbed—Ren blocked—Erika attacked his blind side—he caught her elbow, ducked under, launched her into Yusuke with a twist of his hips.
They tumbled. Rolled. Recovered fast.
His limbs tingled—her neurotoxin was setting in.
Ren's eyes narrowed. "You expected a swordsman."
Yusuke spat blood. "That's what they said."
Erika's grin widened. "They lied."
Ren wiped off blood. "Now do you see why your plan is stupi?"
They clashed again—within the skeleton of a ruined temple.
Broken beams. Snow-slick stone. Icicles above.
Erika hurled a red vial at the ceiling—heat blast!
Icicles fell like spears.
Ren flipped back. One stabbed into his thigh.
He landed hard.
Blood sprayed the snow.
Erika was on him. Straddled him. "Bleed for me. Let me love you."
Ren caught her wrist—twisted.
Pop.
She screamed.
Yusuke drop-kicked him in the ribs—Ren tumbled down a slope of frozen bodies.
He rolled. Blood streaked behind him. Mid-slide—he flipped to his feet—grabbed a corpse's broken femur—
Thwack! He hurled it. Hit Yusuke in the face.
Erika leapt.
Ren ducked. Grabbed her waist. Slammed her headfirst into the snow—a crater formed.
She cackled through blood.
"YES! More! More, Ren!"
He stepped back, panting.
"You're insane."
She licked her lips. "I'm yours."