A stream of blood—aside from his own—ran down the sleeve of his robe, and the sight of it brought him a sense of glee.
His muscles tensed for a moment, then gave out, and Ryuji slowly pulled his claws free, as if mocking him. Ichiro stood silent and aloof, not a single expression on his face.
His posture was tired, his breathing slow but steady. Ryuji stepped back, expecting a reaction—but even the absence of one brought him a sense of relief he relished.
Slowly, Ichiro lifted his left hand and wrapped it around his throat.
"It's over," Ryuji said," Anyway moment now the paralysis will kick in and you'll be nothing but a sitting duck."
"It's a shame really," he continued," that child you stressed over, where is he now? I bet just the sounds of our fight drove him away out of hear."
"Why give your life to a person like that? Regardless of whether they're a child or not you actions will never resonate with them and whatever presence you made them feel will drift away."
His eyes sharpened at Ichiro as he said," you're just another fool who refused to accept his fate."
As he spoke, a faint silhouette flickered through his mind, and his expression twisted.
"Just the sight of you struggling sickens me," he said his look pressing on," just stop and let me finish you quietly."
His expression softened slightly.
" I promise to end it quick."
Ichiro stiffened as he slowly straightened his posture, his hand still wrapped around his throat.
"You can keep your damn promise," he said with a grin," I don't need your sympathy."
"This show of yours only proves the inevitability of the coming outcome," Ryuji said as he stepped toward him," acting tough will just sully your memory as a stubborn fool."
They now stood only inches apart. Ryuji took another step forward, claws ready, aiming to slit Ichiro's throat.
In the next instant, drops of blood splattered across the grass between them.
Ryuji stepped back slowly. With the same claws he had intended to strike with, he hovered them over his nose—blood streaming from a fresh slit across it.
"Why do you keep resisting me," he said his face stiffening.
Ichiro lowered his sword and gently removed his hand from his throat, and Ryuji's face grew pale.
"This defiance," Ichiro said," is all that's left to keep us alive, wouldn't you say?"
Across his throat, two glowing blue bands lay—and between them, the mark that had begun to spread was now bound in place.
With a faint smirk, he uttered a single phrase.
"Tower Series, number 54: Cerulean Stasis!"
---
Looking ahead, the crowd remained silent—some even forgetting to blink. It was clear what had them so awestruck, so fearful, so still.
Sparks flew across the air as blurred figures zoomed into each other in the field before them.
Sometimes it was fast-paced and imperceptible, and at other times they came to an abrupt stop.
They zoomed again and stopped again, over and over, until even the watchers grew fatigued—but what could they do but stand still and pay their tribute to the spectacle through silent observation?
Though the crowd stood aloof, Mei and Juro looked on, the fierceness in their eyes exceeding that of all the villagers combined.
Why? Even they didn't have a proper answer and didn't bother to try and give one. Instead, they cheered on with a mix of hope and fear.
The zooming came to a screeching halt once more, but the sparks they gave off still drifted into the wind.
With both his rods, Takeru stood pushing back Yuriko and Izumi as they struggled to get past. Though he couldn't put it into words, he felt as if the weight behind every hit was deteriorating rapidly—but even so, they still pushed on.
Izumi's struggle was the most apparent. His left hand's grip on his sword grew weaker and weaker as time went by, and he felt his body begin to heat up more and more.
Yuriko, though exhausted, still kept driving forward as if fatigue and fear were things to be cast aside and forgotten.
Every now and then, she glanced back at Miyuki and Takae. Miyuki had her white blade stabbed into her rotting hand.The blade kept blackening even as the rot dissipated, as if she were drawing the blight out from her very so
Takae's face grimaced even as she lay unconscious in her lap, but every now and then her eyes would open slightly, as if she were drifting back to consciousness.
Takeru leapt slightly into the air, dodging a downward swing from Izumi, and just as he did, Yuriko charged at him—the pointed edge of her blade aimed for his throat—but it was driven back by that same field of red energy.
She didn't let this faze her, though, and swung again. This time, her blade came down on the oscillating field with a powerful blow that shattered it.
Noticing this, Takeru tried to intercept the incoming attack, but as he turned, Izumi delivered a slash to his leg.
Cornered from both sides, Takeru gritted his teeth. Both of them moved to strike again at the same time, closing in from either side.
Instead of blocking, he drove one of his rods into the ground and used it to hoist himself into the air, leaving them to strike only the rod.
While airborne, he threw his other rod at them, and as it fell, it rapidly expanded to the size of a pillar.
They jumped out of the way just in time before it crashed into the ground, and they watched as the grass around it began to wither.
The distraction threw Yuriko off for a moment, and she lost sight of Takeru. Distracted, she didn't notice how close she was to the ground, and upon landing, a sharp surge of pain shot through her ankle.
She had no time to dwell on it. The moment she steadied herself, the buzz of Takeru's presence set her on edge.
She turned immediately—but it was too late. Takeru appeared behind her, another rod formed in his arm, its ends sharpened.
She tried to move away, but the pain in her ankle hindered her, and she lost her balance.
Takeru didn't falter. In one swift motion, he drove the pulsating rod into her shoulder.
At first, he felt the resistance of an armored shell—but soon enough, that too shattered.