The water demon crouched on the rockery, its grotesque form twitching as it prepared to spring again.
Beside him, Mitsuri's hoarse whisper carried through the steam. "It's… it's that one. That's the one that dragged me under."
Yukishiro did not answer. His blade hung at his side, its frosted edge glinting pale blue. His jaw tightened.
As if I needed her to point it out.
The irritation simmered beneath his calm exterior. Slowly, he turned his head, casting her a frigid glance. The weight of his eyes cut deeper than any words.
Mitsuri faltered instantly. Her throat bobbed, her gaze dropping to the wet boards beneath her knees. Shame pricked at her chest. The bold words she had spoken before arriving here, full of determination to fight, now rang hollow. She had almost drowned moments ago, and instead of aiding him, she had distracted him further.
No wonder his eyes burned with quiet anger.
Yukishiro gripped her wrist and tugged her closer, his voice dropping low, every syllable sharp as a blade.
"Get yourself together. That thing isn't the only one here. Two more demons are watching us from the second-floor corner. If you drag me down again, I won't save you. I don't need your help. But don't you dare hold me back."
Mitsuri's chest tightened. His words cut like knives, but she didn't protest.
She clasped her hands tightly against her lap, knuckles white.
She had trained hard on Bailong Mountain, endured harsh discipline, believing she could stand beside him. Yet here, on her very first mission, she had been reduced to a burden.
Yukishiro's voice continued, colder than the ice in his blade.
"From now on, your only task is survival. Protect yourself. I'm closing my senses—sight, sound, smell. If the same thing happens again and you scream, or die right in front of me, I won't see, I won't hear, I won't notice. Understand?"
Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to nod. "I… understand."
"Good. Then use what you learned on the mountain. Focus. You've got six times the muscle density of a normal human—maintain it."
"I… I understand." Her voice was faint, but determined.
Without another glance, Yukishiro turned back to the battlefield.
Frost spread across his features, quite literally—delicate ice crusting over his ears, nose, and eyes.
A breath later, the world of sound, scent, and sight vanished. Darkness swallowed the springhouse.
But within that darkness, his perception sharpened. The world redrew itself in his mind's eye—silhouettes of heat and cold, rippling pools, wooden planks, the jagged outline of the rockery, the faint human warmth beside him, and the colder presences lurking above. Four figures in total.
The demon on the rockery moved first. It leapt, a streak of darkness through the mist.
Yukishiro sidestepped lightly. With all other senses sealed away, his awareness of temperature alone was crystalline—each movement mapped, each shift in air pressure charted.
The demon missed, claws raking the planks.
But instead of crashing down, a black circle of light blossomed where it fell—like an open doorway.
The creature slipped into it and vanished.
Another circle rippled open behind Yukishiro. The demon burst forth, claws reaching for the back of his head.
So. A portal technique.
If he struck carelessly, the demon would retreat into those apertures and vanish. He would never track it again. He would need a single, perfect blow.
For that, he would let it believe he was weak.
The game began.
The demon darted in and out of the portals, shrieking as it lunged from every angle. Yukishiro swayed left, then right, every dodge deliberate, narrow. Once, twice, he let its claws brush the hem of his haori, feigning desperation.
Each time, his evasion was close enough to look accidental, too slow, too unsteady.
Mitsuri's heart pounded as she watched from the side. To her eyes, he looked pressed—barely clinging on. She remembered his duel atop Fujikasane Mountain, when he had stood unfazed against three demons at once.
Compared to that, this looked like struggle, like decline.
Her throat tightened. She wanted to run forward, to strike, to help—but his words echoed in her ears.
Don't interfere. If this was a trap, her interference could unravel everything.
High above, in the shadows of the second floor, two more watched.
Yushiro sneered, arms folded, his young face twisted with contempt. "Lady Tamayo, should we step in? At this rate, that white-haired fool will be eaten alive."
Tamayo's gaze was serene, her voice calm. "You underestimate him, Yushiro. It is not the young man who will be killed tonight. It is the demon. Give him a moment more."
Yushiro's scowl deepened.
Her faith in another man was a thorn in his chest.
Below, the demon grew careless. Flush with repeated success, it began to attack without even retreating into the portals. It bounded toward Yukishiro, circling, snapping like an animal at play.
It thought him cornered.
It thought him weak.
That arrogance was its doom.
Yukishiro's chest rose, calm. His arms tightened around the blade. He drew in a sharp breath, frost rushing from his lungs, coating the air in glittering shards.
The Nichirin Blade arced sideways, the cut so smooth it seemed effortless.
"Ice Breathing, Second Form: Falling Snow."
The strike shimmered like a drifting veil of winter. A streak of white carved through the steam, elegant as a spirit dancing upon the wind.
The demon's grin froze in place. Recognition flickered too late.
Steel met flesh.
Its head parted cleanly from its squat black body.
For an instant, silence reigned. Then the severed form collapsed into the boards, twitching once before stillness.
From the balcony, Tamayo's voice was quiet, resolute. "Yushiro, prepare to collect its blood."
She rolled up her sleeve, nails slicing delicately across her pale arm. Scarlet threads floated outward, suspended in the air like silk ribbons.
Below, Yukishiro straightened slowly. His senses still cloaked in frost, he felt the shift—the faint, drifting warmth descending from above. Blood. The same scent he had detected the previous night, delicate and strange.
He exhaled, blade lowering.
One demon down. But the battle was far from over.