Blood dripped from Renji's chin, hot and metallic on his tongue. Mist burned his lungs, biting at every breath. He barely saw the world beyond the figure towering before him. Kurogane's blade was wet with Yurei's blood, and his grin split wider than any wound he had inflicted.
"You're trembling," Kurogane said, stepping closer. Each footfall cracked the ground, fissures spreading out like veins of glass. "Not from strength. From fear."
Renji's knees threatened to fold. Yurei lay sprawled behind him, chest rising in weak spasms. She had given everything, and her body had broken for it. All that held the line now was him—and the blade that shook in his hands.
He forced breath into his chest, though each inhale was fire. The sword was unbearably heavy, dragging his arms down. He had respawned more times than he could count, but never had survival felt this impossible.
Kurogane tilted his head. "Pick. Die standing, or kneel and die faster. Either way, you'll return. That's the beauty. Death is nothing here. Just a door you can walk through as many times as you want. Why cling to pain?"
Mist writhed, slithering into his ears. Voices rose from it, faint and familiar, as though echoing from the forgotten corners of his mind. Fall. Rest. Close your eyes and wake clean. No more agony. No more weight.
Renji staggered forward with a raw cry, swinging his blade. Desperation carved the strike, not skill. Steel rang, sparks leapt. Kurogane's parry was effortless, almost lazy. His strength surged through the clash like a tide, and Renji was hurled backward.
He slammed into the dirt. Ribs screamed. Vision fractured with white-hot bursts. His sword nearly slipped free.
The whisper coiled sweeter now. Yes. Die. Slip into darkness. Wake without pain. Wake without memory. Isn't that kinder?
Renji's grip faltered. The blade tilted. For a heartbeat he saw it—an end to everything: fear, failure, burden.
Kurogane's voice cut through. "That's it. Feel it. Death is your only truth. Your only gift."
Renji's chest clenched. He almost let go.
Then a hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"RENJI!"
Yurei's voice tore through the fog. Hoarse, ragged, furious. Her nails dug into him, anchoring him in place. Her eyes burned despite their dim haze of pain."Don't you dare listen! That whisper isn't yours. It's the Mist. Yield once, and you'll never come back as yourself."
The fog in his mind cracked. Breath rushed into his lungs like fire. His sword steadied, slick with sweat but firm in his grip.
Kurogane laughed. A guttural, rolling sound that shook the ground. "Good. Resist. For now. But the Mist is patient. So am I. Sooner or later, you'll crave the release yourself."
He stepped forward. His presence thickened the air, pressed down like stone on Renji's chest. His blade lowered, poised not for defense but for slaughter.
Renji forced his battered body upright, planting himself between Kurogane and Yurei. His stance wavered, legs trembling, but he did not yield ground.
Kurogane's grin sharpened. "Then show me. Show me what a corpse can do against inevitability."
He lunged.
Steel clashed in a flash of sparks. Renji's arms buckled, teeth rattled, but he held. Kurogane pressed harder, inexorable, his strength a storm battering Renji's fragile wall.
Renji's knees bent. He nearly collapsed—until Yurei's broken voice rang out again."Stand, Renji! If you fall, we both fall!"
He roared, shoving upward with everything left inside. The blade scraped free, deflecting the killing blow by inches.
Kurogane's brow arched. Amusement glimmered in his gaze. "Not bad. A dead man pretending to live."
The next strike came faster, heavier. Renji barely caught it, the shock tearing open his palms. Blood slicked the hilt, but he refused to let go.
Mist wrapped tighter, whispering all the while. Why endure? Just die once more. Rest. The cycle is mercy.
His grip wavered. Blade dipped. Kurogane's edge nicked his cheek, slicing a line of red.
Renji staggered, breath ragged.
Yurei clawed her way upright, voice a rasp. "You are more than the Mist! More than death! Don't give it what it wants!"
Her words struck something buried deep, sparking faintly through his despair. He lifted his sword once more, crying out—not in fear, but in defiance.
Kurogane paused, faint surprise flickering across his smile.
The Mist recoiled. The ground groaned, fissures widening. For a moment, the world itself seemed to hold its breath.
Renji stood, battered and trembling, but not broken.
And beneath his skin, the whisper lingered—patient, coiling, waiting for the next crack to slip through.
Kurogane didn't strike. His sword hovered, inches from Renji's face, humming with restrained violence. Then, with a smirk, he drew it back and let the silence stretch.
"You hesitate," he said softly. "Not because of courage… but because the Mist already has its claws in you. I can see it gnawing at your will. It's beautiful."
Renji's chest heaved. His arms trembled, sword heavy as stone. Yurei clung to his shoulder, barely able to stand, her blood soaking the ground beneath them. Every second she remained alive felt stolen.
Kurogane sheathed his blade with a lazy motion, though his presence pressed heavier than ever. "I could end you here. Both of you. Yet why would I waste such promise? You are closer to truth than you realize, Renji."
Renji spat blood into the dirt. "Shut… up…"
But the words lacked strength. His lungs burned, his body screamed, and beneath it all—the whisper coiled tighter. He's right. You've died so many times already. What is one more? Why cling to agony when death is always waiting, gentle and kind?
Kurogane's grin widened, as if he had heard the whisper too. "Do you feel it? That pull? The relief death offers? It's not your enemy. It's the only freedom left to us."
Renji's vision blurred. His heart thundered. And deep inside, a treacherous thought bloomed: Maybe he's right.
Yurei sensed it. Her grip on his arm tightened, nails biting his skin. "Don't. Don't believe him! That voice is not yours—it's the Mist. If you yield, you'll respawn as something less. Piece by piece, it will strip away who you are until nothing remains!"
Kurogane chuckled, low and venomous. "And what's so precious about 'who you are'? Weak, trembling, drowning in fear. Why cling to that pathetic shell? Death is renewal. Each respawn carves away the rot until only strength remains."
His words cut deeper than his blade ever could.
Renji wavered. His body screamed to collapse, to let the dark embrace him. One death. Just one more. Would it truly matter?
Kurogane stepped closer, his shadow swallowing them. "I am not your enemy, Renji. I am your mirror. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll be free."
The Mist swelled, curling like smoke around Renji's throat. The whispers became clearer, almost tender. Let go. Die. Return. Stronger. Lighter. Empty.
Renji swayed. His sword dipped.
"NO!" Yurei screamed, hurling herself in front of him despite her broken body. Blood streamed down her side, but her eyes blazed like fire through the haze. "If you give in now, I'll drag you back myself, even if I have to tear you out of the Mist with my own hands!"
The words shattered something inside him. The haze faltered. For a heartbeat, clarity pierced through.
Renji gritted his teeth, forcing his blade up once more. His voice cracked but held: "I'm not… done."
Kurogane's smile froze. Then, slowly, it returned sharper, crueler. "Good. Fight your nature. Resist the inevitable. Every second you endure makes the fall sweeter."
He turned, retreating into the fog, his laughter echoing. "I'll be waiting at the end of your will, Renji. When it breaks, I'll be there to welcome you."
The Mist swallowed him whole.
Silence fell.
Renji dropped to his knees, the weight of his sword dragging it into the dirt. His chest convulsed with ragged breaths. Yurei collapsed beside him, barely holding on.
For a long moment, neither spoke. Only the sound of the Mist shifting around them filled the void.
Finally, Yurei forced words past bloodied lips. "We… need to move. The altar… it's our only chance."
Renji nodded numbly. His legs shook as he pulled her up, slinging her arm over his shoulder. Together, they stumbled forward, every step a war.
The Mist whispered still. Softer now, but constant. Die. Rest. Return. Over and over. It will be easier next time.
Renji clenched his teeth, forcing the voice down. But no matter how hard he tried, it lingered—curling in the corners of his mind, patient, eternal.
They pressed on toward the altar, battered but alive. Yet inside Renji, something had cracked.
Not broken. Not yet.
But the seed of doubt had been planted.
And the Mist would never stop watering it.