Mochi was ready to make the leap. She knew she would expend a considerable portion of her ether reserves on that impact, but it would be worth it to make sure she pulverized the heart with a single blow.
She prepared to propel herself forward... or at least, that was what she intended.
Instants before pushing off the ground, an icy pang ran down her spine: an overwhelming dark, heavy sensation, loaded with pure lust for blood. Her sharp feline instincts screamed imminent danger. Without hesitating for a single second, she obeyed that inner voice as she had done countless times in the past; her instincts had never failed her.
She threw herself to the side in a quick lateral leap. The dodge happened at the last possible millisecond. For the fraction of a second in which she moved, she saw a black claw slice through the air at top speed just millimeters from her face, severing a few strands of her reddish hair.
Upon hitting the ground, she rolled violently over her shoulder, but pushed herself back up immediately in a single fluid motion, planting her feet once again and raising her fists wrapped in her red brass knuckles, alert for any new assault.
It was then that she was able to clearly identify her attacker.
Standing in the very same spot where she had been just a second ago was a woman. At first glance, she appeared to be in her thirties, sporting a slender body framed by a short, tight black dress that matched her high-heeled boots. Her long, straight blonde hair fell elegantly to the middle of her back. She could have passed for an ordinary human if not for one chilling detail: from each of her fingers sprouted long, sharp jet-black claws, at least four inches in length.
The woman spun on her heels to face Mochi.
A chill ran through her entire body upon making out her face. The woman's skin was covered in a thick, cracked layer of clown makeup, with an exaggerated red smile drawn crookedly across her lips and two deep, dark sockets around her eyes that gave them a completely hollow appearance.
Suddenly, the woman widened her real mouth. Her jaw unhinged slightly with a sinister snap, revealing a row of yellowish, rotten, needle-sharp teeth.
"You..." Mochi could barely articulate, fighting against the wave of shock trying to paralyze her.
The anomaly smiled ecstatically, letting out a disturbing giggle: "My, you remember me... It seems I left a good impression on you. But this time you won't be able to resort to your dirty tricks again."
That comment confirmed Mochi's suspicions: that creature was the same anomaly she had faced in the past. The fearsome clown she had stumbled upon just a few days after becoming an OHRA agent, a traumatic experience that had left an indelible mark on her memory.
He remembered it as if it had happened yesterday: that was the first time in his life that he felt true, mortal terror. Back then, Mochi was only beginning to learn how to perceive ether, so he could not accurately measure the strength of his opponents. Even so, he immediately knew that the creature was infinitely superior to him and that he did not stand the slightest chance in a direct fight.
However, that dangerous ghost from his past was here again. And Mochi was no longer the same.
Things had changed drastically in the months that had passed. He was no longer a frightened, inexperienced child; he had survived great dangers, learned to master his weapon, and learned to control the flow of ether within his body.
"I'll show you... This time I'm not going to run or hide!" Mochi promised himself, flattening his ears with determination.
"I'll defeat you again!" he declared out loud, doing his best to project absolute confidence.
Despite his firm words, reality was complicated. Although during their first encounter Mochi had been unable to evaluate the monster's strength, his senses now allowed him to gauge it perfectly. He estimated that the anomaly stood at the peak of C-rank, which meant that the two of them were practically equal in terms of raw power. The outcome would not be decided by brute strength, but by abilities and cunning. And there was one undeniable factor: the anomaly far surpassed him in combat experience. Mochi could not afford a battle of attrition; he had to end this quickly and decisively in the very first exchange.
He glanced sideways for a fraction of a second. At the far end of the corridor, Kotone remained immersed in her frantic dance of ink, fighting tirelessly against the Zashiki-warashi. The battle was dragging on for too long, and time was beginning to work against him.
Why is it taking her so long? Mochi wondered, gritting his teeth impatiently. That Zashiki-warashi anomaly was considerably weaker than the giant snow ape anomaly Haruka had fought at the inn. Kotone, being a prodigy equivalent to a second-rank agent, should have been more than capable of crushing it without so many complications.
"Hey... do you have a name?" Mochi asked, relaxing his stance slightly to adopt a deceptively casual guard.
He remembered well that during their first encounter, the clown had been the talkative, egotistical, boastful type. If he could get it talking, he would gain a few precious seconds to come up with a plan.
"Oh, but where are my manners?" the anomaly replied in a horribly distorted voice, a chilling blend of a woman's high-pitched tone and a deep cavernous echo.
The clown performed an exaggeratedly theatrical bow, bending at the waist in a way that instantly reminded Mochi of circus performances. As it lowered itself, its long black claws scraped against the concrete floor with an unbearable metallic screech.
"You may call me Claude," it continued, slowly straightening up. The thick, eerie layer of white makeup seemed to crack across its skin as its rotten smile widened. "Although don't bother memorizing it too much. Before long... you'll be screaming my name over and over again while begging for mercy. I guarantee it."
Claude's gaze turned vile and lustful, slowly traveling over Mochi's figure with a revolting intensity. It was exactly the same kind of implied threat it had used to torment him during their first encounter. Claude was a sick sadist who enjoyed breaking women's spirits and reveling in their terror before destroying them.
A wave of pure disgust ran down Mochi's spine, making her cat ears flatten against her head in revulsion. She had almost forgotten how truly repulsive this guy was. However, as she examined the full silhouette of her enemy—the tight black dress, the high-heeled boots, and the markedly feminine curves of his new vessel—a piece suddenly clicked in Mochi's mind.
It was a revelation so absurdly ridiculous that she had to bite the inside of her cheek hard to hold back the laugh struggling to escape her throat. In the blink of an eye, her expression of disgust transformed into a wide, mocking smirk, brimming with pure superiority.
Claude blinked, completely bewildered by the girl's total lack of fear. His wicked smile froze.
"What? What's so funny, you damn cat?"
Mochi relaxed her shoulders effortlessly and pointed a finger directly at him, shamelessly gesturing toward his lower half.
"It's just... I was thinking that you talk way too much for someone who can no longer back up anything they promise," Mochi blurted out, letting out a mocking, carefree giggle. "That new body of yours is missing something pretty important to carry out your horrible threats, don't you think, Claude? After all, you're not a man anymore. Now you're a woman. You lost 'the equipment' the last time I destroyed your previous body."
The direct reminder of his past humiliation, coupled with the devastating blow to his ego and the loss of his former male identity, acted like pouring gasoline onto a burning pyre. Claude's painted face contorted into a grimace of pure destructive madness. The white base on his skin cracked under the boundless rage distorting his features.
"YOU FILTHY BRAT!!" the clown roared, instantly losing all of his feigned theatrical elegance. His voice cracked into a shrill, unhinged shriek, overflowing with pure hatred. "I'll make sure to make you suffer! I'll skin you alive a thousand times! Don't think I'll grant you a quick death!"
His long black claws sliced wildly through the air as he took a violent stride forward, completely blinded by the pain of his trampled pride.
Mochi smirked widely with mischief. That outburst of blind fury was exactly the reaction she had calculated to trigger. A cold, experienced rival was extremely dangerous, but an impulsive, out-of-control enemy makes glaring mistakes. Claude had just left his guard completely open.
Without wasting a single second, Mochi stoked the ether inside her with full force and released a dense pulse of energy directly toward the anomaly. Claude, unable to foresee such a maneuver in his blinded state, was unprepared to receive the spiritual shockwave. Staggering, he brought a hand to his head with a groan and looked away for a fraction of a second.
Mochi had conceived that strategy upon remembering how disoriented Kotone had been left when she experienced one of her ether pulses. She knew it was a dirty trick that would only work a single time in combat, as no opponent with half a brain would fall for the same trap twice. But now that the monster had stumbled, Mochi had no intention of wasting this golden opportunity.
In an instant, Mochi circulated a dense current of ether through her body. She channeled as much energy as she could into her legs, but she didn't stop there: she sent a significant portion directly to Kero, her faithful companion the parka anomaly. With the additional boost, she shot forward like a bolt of lightning, closing the distance in the blink of an eye until she stood right in front of Claude's face.
"Critical Strike!" Mochi roared, throwing a thunderous punch directly at the anomaly's chest.
Her weapon's special ability activated instantly: a dense black mist wrapped around her fist, condensing at high speed until it took the shape of a gigantic cat paw closed into a firm fist of energy. For a fraction of a second, Mochi managed to catch a flash of genuine surprise reflected in Claude's dark sockets, and for a moment she was convinced of her victory. But it was not to be.
The impact never connected. Claude dodged the attack in a manner so grotesque and unexpected that it defied any calculation Mochi could have made. In the worst-case scenario, she expected the clown to jump backward or try to block the blow. Instead, the anomaly contorted its torso to the side in a completely unnatural and inhuman way, bending its spine until its torso was entirely parallel to the ground. That made Mochi wonder if that thing even had bones or if its new vessel was made of flexible rubber.
"It seems you've learned new tricks, kitty... I did well not to underestimate you," Claude said, letting out a mocking giggle.
Although he intended to sound dismissive, internally he was alarmed. He was unaware of what kind of devastating effect that energy technique possessed, but his extensive experience facing OHRA agents had taught him never to collide head-on with an ability of that caliber.
Mochi was not prepared to miss a charge with so much momentum. The momentum of her missed punch left her off balance, offering a massive opening for a counterattack. Of course, Claude didn't waste the opportunity. With spine-chilling speed, he launched a swipe of black claws. Just like his torso, his arm bent and rippled as if it lacked rigid joints, moving with the unpredictable snap of a whip.
Moments like this made Mochi intensely wish her weapon had a more conventional shape—something like a sword—a tool that could be placed in the way to block and intercept defensive impacts. But lamenting in the middle of combat was useless. She felt the sharp claws make contact with her side and, at that very instant, perceived a non-negligible portion of her ether reserves evaporate all at once.
Reacting out of pure muscle memory, Mochi unleashed a lightning-fast kick at the enemy's upper body. The impact didn't land, but that wasn't her real goal: the maneuver forced Claude to take a couple of leaps backward to avoid her leg, granting Mochi the space she desperately needed to regain her composure.
Looking down at her own body, she noticed that her shirt had a clean tear at rib height, leaving her navel exposed through the shredded fabric. However, beneath the torn garment, there wasn't a single cut or a single mark of blood.
"My, what smooth, white skin..." Claude murmured, licking his lips with sick delight.
Mochi completely ignored the repulsive comment. In her mind, she thanked Haruka once more for the rigorous, intense training sessions she had put her through; if not for the discipline her friend had instilled in her, she would currently have a gruesome open wound across her stomach.
Even so, Mochi was a bit frustrated by how complex combat had become since she learned to strengthen her body and defend herself by channeling ether. While it was a lifesaving ability, it came with an overwhelming drawback: voracious energy consumption.
The defense she was employing at that moment functioned like a shield. In the fraction of a second prior to receiving a potentially lethal impact, her ether would rush to the threatened area, hardening her skin to negate the damage. Obviously, every blocked impact required an expenditure: the amount of energy consumed varied according to the force of the attack, as mitigating a superficial scratch was not the same as stopping a deep thrust. And if the incoming attack exceeded the total amount of ether left in her reserve, she would not only take the full force of the blow, but she would also lose every last drop of her energy trying in vain to stop it.
At first, when she learned the technique, Mochi had foolishly believed she could charge head-on without bothering to dodge anything. How wrong she had been!
Regrouping her strength, Mochi raised her fists once more into a firm boxer's stance, bending her knees and sharpening her senses. She mentally prepared for the difficult showdown ahead, fully aware that her surprise attack—the blow that should have won the fight or at least secured a decisive advantage—had failed.