Kaein's POV
I skidded to a halt, my chest was heaving, and mud sucking at my boots, the girls kept splitting into impossible doubles, dozens of them, all grinning the same perfect, white-toothed smile. My mind snapped to focus. Illusions. That's what they were. Tricks. The real one would be moving differently, breathing differently, leaving a pattern in the chaos. I swallowed the panic. Analysis first then strike second. That was rule one.
"Shion," I barked, trying to steady my voice. "Pair up. Left flank with me. Takechi, Daichi, right. Don't… No don't chase randomly. Hold your sectors. Watch for movement that doesn't match the others."
Shion's eyes narrowed, scanning the spinning images of white shifts and dark hair. "I can see it," she whispered, almost to herself. "It's not uniform. Look see that one? Timing's off by a half-beat."
I nodded, my hand tightening around my sword. Every step she took left a tiny splash in the mud. Small and precise. That's how I would track the real micro-movements. Heartbeats, breath, reflexes. All the illusions moved like clockwork, but the real one was chaotic.
"Takechi," I called. "Don't charge blindly. Trap her and cut off exits. She runs left, you push right. Daichi, cover the rear. Don't let her double back."
Takechi grunted, already pivoting, boots squelching, eyes scanning. He had that reckless edge, but when he followed orders, he could break through any choke. Daichi's calm voice cut through the storm of my racing thoughts. "Let's box her in. No gaps. If she slips, let's wait for the next moment."
The first figure darted, spinning like a pinwheel, arms flaring, laughter bubbling out. My gut clenched. That timing slightly ahead, just enough to break formation. I lunged, slicing across what I thought was her shoulder. Mud sprayed. Shion was beside me, eyes catching the shadow of the real one slipping past the false images.
"There!" she hissed. "Right foot it touches after the others. She's real."
I pivoted, following her lead, cutting through a splash of illusions. Takechi roared from the opposite flank, striking an image, and the clone evaporated in a hiss of steam. I cursed under my breath. Illusions were distracting, but also expendable. The goal wasn't to kill them all it was to corner the real threat.
The rain spattered, heavy, drenching. I ignored it. Focused on micro-movements, the twitch of a wrist, the way hair clung to flesh differently in the water, the slight drag of mud. She was fast, but not invincible.
Another figure lunged at Shion. She pivoted, spinning her blade in a tight arc, cutting air, not flesh. I could see her frustration, teeth gritted. "She's toying with us," Shion muttered, stepping back to reassess.
"She's baiting," I said, voice low. "Every fake we hit, she teaches us. Observe patterns, and anticipate the real moves. Watch the center of the spin."
Takechi's voice rang sharp, slicing the tension. "I've got her cornered in the mud pit!" He laughed, almost gleeful, but I could hear the strain. "She's fast, but sloppy when forced!"
I glanced left, saw the real one Hanami, I remembered her name twisting between shadows, smiling that impossible grin. She wasn't attacking. She wanted a mistake. I tightened my grip.
"Hold formation," I barked. "Step carefully. She reacts to gaps."
Daichi's calm voice anchored the storm. "Wait for my mark. She can't cross the line I've drawn." His finger pointed, just a twitch, and the rest of us adjusted, squeezing the circle tighter.
The rain didn't matter. The mud didn't matter. Every sense was keyed to her rhythm, and suddenly it clicked there. A micro-slip in timing. Her left hand lagged slightly behind her right when she pivoted. That's the tell.
"Takechi left sweep. Shion, mirror me pressure front, don't engage fully. Daichi, rear choke point." My mind ran through the next three moves, predicting her panic, how she'd try to exploit the clones.
I lunged, not to strike, but to push her movement, force her back toward Takechi's trap line. She pivoted, laughing that same tinkling sound, but miscalculating. Her foot landed in the mud deeper than expected, slip subtle but enough.
"Now!" I shouted.
Shion's blade flashed, Takechi barreled forward, Daichi cut the rear. The net tightened, illusions evaporating like mist under coordinated pressure. Hanami's grin faltered just for a heartbeat. That was all I needed to see.
"Good," I muttered. "She's human enough to make a mistake."
But just as I advanced, calculating the final cornering maneuver, my stomach twisted. The figure I thought was neutral one of the "extra" illusions shifted. Not like the others. Her eyes glinted differently. Timing was perfect. Yes!
"She's splitting again," Shion hissed beside me.
"Not the same split," Takechi growled. "That's another real one."
I froze, heart hammering. One cornered, one unaccounted for. The strategy failed if we didn't account for her second. Two real targets.
"Pull back slightly," Daichi commanded, calm but firm. "Kaein, flank left with Shion. Takechi, rear with me. Don't lose the second one. Watch the flow, follow my lead."
We obeyed, hearts pounding, mud squishing under boots. The first Hanami crouched low, twisted, almost playful, eyes scanning us. She wasn't panicking, she was studying us, countering our tactics in real time.
I whispered to Shion, "She's too smart for real. I've not encountered anything like this. She's not like the others we've faced."
Shion's grip tightened, eyes sharp. "Then let's fight smart. Don't engage fully or with all our force. Let's force her toward our strength, not hers."
I nodded, calculating. One cornered, one loose. Timing and coordination were everything. We couldn't strike first we needed to predict, to anticipate the next micro-slip, and then trap.
The first Hanami smiled again, tilting her head perfectly. Then she bolted, fast as before, but my instincts screamed she was moving deliberately toward the second.
"Cover the flank!" I shouted. "She's linking her moves. Don't let her escape the trap line!"
Blades slashed, boots churned mud, but I felt it the second Hanami, shadowing the first, almost mirroring, That grin, the perfect timing. Too coordinated to be random.
"Trap's failing," Takechi roared. "We've got two real ones!"
I clenched my teeth, recalculating. Two real demons, illusions fading fast. We had the corner, but the other could ambush, could slip through. One false move, and the whole operation collapsed.
I risked a glance. The first Hanami faltered for just a breath. That's it. That's our window. But the second one standing just beyond the mud pit, rain sliding down her pale hair was smiling too, aware, and anticipating.
"Ready yourselves," Daichi's voice cut through.
I swallowed, tightening grip on the hilt, pulse slamming.
And then, just as I took the first step toward pushing her into Takechi's net, the second Hanami tilted her head, smiling at me, and whispered so soft I could barely hear over the rain:
"You can't c
orner us… yet."
I froze. And I knew. The real battle hadn't even started.