Smoke covered the floor up to their knees.
It wasn’t gas from underground.
It was denser.
The emergency lights flickered in intermittent red, reflecting off the peeling hospital walls.
Akuma walked with his arms crossed.
Jaw tight.
—We’re lost because of the know-it-all.
He couldn’t stand feeling control slip away.
Akihiro didn’t respond.
He was smiling.
His eyes scanned the ceiling, the cracks, the pattern of the smoke.
—It’s not the second floor.
He looked at the elevator shaft.
—The airflow is coming from above.
He detected something else.
Minimal marks on the railing.
Dust displaced toward the east wing.
—Fourth or third.
Akuma clicked his tongue.
—Are you ignoring me?
Akihiro barely looked at him for a second.
—We’re not lost.
He looked back down the hallway.
—We’re being guided.
Silence.
Behind them, Naoko walked quieter than usual.
The smoke brushed his knees.
He crouched.
Touched it.
Cold.
He looked down the long hallway behind them.
Dark.
—Something is following us.
He didn’t say it with fear.
He said it as a fact.
Akuma turned his head.
Immediate instinct.
—Let it come.
His voice carried that dangerous spark.
The one that scared even his own people.
He hated feeling hunted.
Akihiro tilted his head slightly.
—It’s not running.
He observed the smoke’s movement.
—It’s keeping a constant distance.
—What does that mean? —Naoko asked.
Akihiro smiled softly.
—That it doesn’t need to rush.
The hallway creaked.
A door slammed shut at the far end.
The smoke swirled.
And took shape.
One.
Three.
Ten.
Humanoid figures made of dense mist. No faces. No eyes. Just compact silhouettes vibrating with oppressive energy.
They didn’t float.
They stepped.
Naoko didn’t hesitate.
He unsheathed his katana.
The metallic sound sliced through the tension.
He lowered into stance.
Legs firm.
Breathing slow.
His aura changed.
Beside him, Akihiro extended his hand.
Pink magic appeared.
It shaped the air.
A sword formed in his palm.
Akuma smiled.
He clenched his fists.
—Finally.
The figures attacked.
No techniques.
No feints.
Direct blows.
Simple.
But when the first one struck Naoko’s forearm…
The sound was dry.
And it hurt.
A lot.
Naoko stepped back half a pace.
—They’re heavy.
He cut diagonally.
The katana sliced through smoke…
but the form compacted again.
Akihiro had already read the pattern.
—Don’t strike the center.
His pink blade cut the air, not the enemy.
The smoke figure reacted instinctively.
It moved left.
Exactly where Akihiro wanted.
Naoko was already there.
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Horizontal slash.
This time aiming at the “base.”
The silhouette partially dissolved.
Akihiro didn’t attack to destroy.
He attacked to direct.
—Force them to shift —he said softly.
Two figures surrounded Akuma.
One threw a direct punch to his face.
He didn’t dodge.
He took it.
His head snapped from the impact.
He smiled.
—That all you’ve got?
Direct punch to the smoke man’s torso.
The flame didn’t pass through.
It burned.
It deformed.
Akuma advanced without formal technique.
Headbutt straight to the other’s chest.
The fire intensified with every hit.
—Don’t touch me!
One managed to strike his back.
The pain was real.
But he didn’t retreat.
He hit harder.
More rage.
Three figures attacked Naoko at once.
His instinct activated before thought.
Short displacement.
Explosive.
Upward slash.
Low spin.
Sweeping leg.
It wasn’t chaotic.
It was controlled.
One managed to hit his face.
Sharp pain.
He didn’t scream.
He planted his feet.
And cut with clean precision.
Like Chiaki taught him.
The silhouette fragmented.
His breathing was steady.
His gaze cold.
Akihiro raised his free hand.
An almost invisible pink plane appeared in front of Akuma.
A smoke strike collided with that imperceptible barrier.
Trajectory deflected.
Akuma capitalized.
Fire-wrapped hook.
Partial disintegration.
Akihiro smiled.
Two steps ahead.
Always.
—They’re densified manifestations —he analyzed—.
They need stability.
He looked at the smoke on the floor.
—Break their rhythm.
Force constant vibration.
Naoko understood.
Fast attacks.
No pauses.
Akuma roared.
Chained blows.
Not allowing the forms to regain structure.
Three fell.
Seven remained.
And the smoke kept pouring from the end of the hall.
Akihiro looked up.
—This is just a test.
The fallen figures dissolved…
and part of that smoke returned to the hallway.
It didn’t disappear.
It recycled.
Akuma spat blood from his lip.
Smiled.
—Smiley.
He looked at Naoko while blocking a hit with his flame-wrapped forearm.
—If you destroy more smoke figures than me… you earn my respect.
Naoko spun the katana, slicing a silhouette at the “waist.”
—I accept.
Short burst of steps.
Naoko chained three fast, precise cuts directed at the figures’ “bases.”
One fell.
Akuma pierced another with a direct Infernal Fist to the “chest.”
—One by one, kid.
—Two to one —Naoko replied, not smiling.
Akihiro watched them while fighting.
Not out of superiority.
Out of calculation.
Akihiro raised his pink sword and sliced the air, forcing two figures toward Akuma.
—They’re tiring you out.
Both ignored the comment.
Akuma struck another silhouette.
Naoko dodged and countered.
Akihiro raised his voice slightly more.
—That’s the mage’s idea.
Naoko split a figure diagonally.
—What idea?
Akihiro intercepted a blow with an invisible barrier.
—To exhaust us.
The smoke kept densifying.
Always the same volume.
Always the same rhythm.
Naoko inhaled deeply.
—He’ll exhaust himself too making weak smoke puppets.
Akihiro cut a silhouette in half.
This time he didn’t smile.
—Not necessarily.
He deflected a strike aimed at Akuma’s back.
—If you apply magic… or Reikon… to an object long enough…
A figure attacked Naoko from the left.
Akuma intercepted it with a burning elbow.
Akihiro continued:
—That object begins to become part of you.
He created a pink dagger and threw it with surgical precision, breaking another figure’s smoke “knee.”
—That’s how cursed weapons are born.
Brief silence between blows.
Naoko understood first.
He looked at the ceiling.
The walls.
The smoke emerging from the cracks.
—Then…
Upward slash.
Partial disintegration.
—The hospital is a cursed weapon.
Akihiro nodded.
For the first time… without a smile.
—Yes.
A figure struck his face.
He didn’t see it coming.
He stepped back half a pace.
His eyes tightened slightly.
—And I need to know where the origin is.
Another figure emerged from the ceiling.
—Where the point is… where the magic embedded itself.
Akuma threw a flaming hook that split a silhouette in half.
—And if we don’t find it?
Akihiro looked into the dark end of the hallway.
For the first time…
He hesitated.
Not visible to just anyone.
But Naoko noticed.
A micro-tension in the pupil.
A millisecond pause before answering.
—Then we lose in the long run.
The smoke condensed again.
The fallen figures were reforming faster.
Naoko tightened his grip on the katana.
—Then we search for it.
Akuma smiled, fire growing in his fists.
—Or we break everything until we find it.
While Naoko and Akuma prepared for the new mass…
Akihiro was thinking.
A thousand calculations.
A thousand trajectories.
A thousand probabilities.
And then—
A memory.
Continent 7, a few years ago — The Circus of Lies.
Warm lights.
Red tents.
Fake smiles.
They didn’t present him as a magician.
They presented him as:
—“The phenomenon who can see your destiny.”
He was 14.
Sitting across from adults who paid to hear what they already wanted to believe.
They made him “read minds.”
They fed him prior information about the audience.
They taught him to observe micro-gestures.
Sweat.
Posture.
Clothes.
Rings.
Eye contact.
But soon the boy began seeing something deeper.
People didn’t want truth.
They wanted beautiful lies.
And he understood that too young.
?? Manipulation isn’t magic.
It’s understanding human desire.
One night.
Different visitors entered the tent.
Two presences that didn’t fit.
Uta.
And Kuro.
They didn’t come for spectacle.
They came out of curiosity.
Kuro saw the boy.
He laughed.
—This is the “phenomenon”?
He paid.
Sat in front of him.
—Read my mind.
Akihiro observed him.
Steady hands.
Sharp gaze.
Small scars.
Not normal audience.
Still, he spoke.
He told him what any proud man does not want to hear.
Kuro didn’t smile.
He leaned in.
Pulled out a dagger.
Rested it softly against the table, barely visible.
—You can think a lot.
Akihiro didn’t blink.
—But in the end… —Kuro continued—
simple solutions are the easiest.
Silence.
The boy understood something else that day.
Intelligence without decision is useless.
Uta bought him.
He didn’t save him with affection.
Didn’t adopt him.
Didn’t say “now you’re safe.”
He gave him something different.
Freedom.
—You don’t work for me —he said—.
You work for yourself.
If you want to stay, learn.
If you want to leave, go.
Akihiro stayed.
Because he understood something bigger than the circus.
True manipulation isn’t lying.
It’s moving the board without anyone seeing your hand.
Return to the Present
The smoke condensed.
A single enormous figure began forming.
Akuma cracked his knuckles.
Naoko adjusted his stance.
Akihiro breathed.
Kuro was right.
Sometimes…
the simple solution is correct.
Not destroying figures.
Not searching for hours for the origin.
If the hospital is a cursed weapon…
Then like every weapon…
It must have a core.
And every core…
Is physical.
His eyes opened.
Akihiro turned to Akuma.
—Akuma. Blow a massive hole upward with your magic.
Akuma looked at him.
Silence.
Fire growing in his fists.
—Don’t give me orders.
Naoko, without taking his eyes off the smoke monster:
—Ugly face. Do it.
The veins in Akuma’s neck stood out.
—DON’T GIVE ME ORDERS!
??
An infernal explosion tore through the ceiling.
The hospital shook.
A burning cylinder pierced floors, pipes, concrete, and steel, opening a vertical tunnel to the rooftop.
Dust.
Outside
Outside the hospital…
Uta turned a page of his book.
The explosion made the tree leaves tremble.
He barely looked up at the building.
Exhaled.
—The mission is supposed to save the hospital…
He went back to reading.
—not demolish it.
Back Inside
The vertical tunnel expelled dust and smoke upward.
Akihiro looked at the perfect opening.
He smiled slightly.
—Perfect.
He looked at Akuma.
—Now throw me.
Silence.
Akuma blinked.
—This has to be a joke.
Crack.
He grabbed him by the collar.
Lifted him like he weighed nothing.
—But it’ll feel like hitting you for giving me orders.
And he threw him.
With all his strength.
Akihiro shot upward through the tunnel wrapped in dust and sparks.
Top Floor
And he saw him.
Shoulder-length hair.
Premature gray strands.
Angular face.
Gray eyes… empty.
A crooked smile.
A metallic tooth gleaming.
Black leather jacket missing one sleeve.
Harness with daggers.
Thin.
The origin.
The core.
The mage.
He was literally standing atop the hospital.
The source of the curse embedded in the building.
He stared at Akihiro, mouth slightly open.
Surprised.
Akihiro began falling backward from the force of the launch.
But before descending—
He extended his hand.
Pink magic.
A barrier formed across the opening Akuma created.
He stopped midair.
Suspended.
Walking on his own energy.
And he began walking toward him.
Each step echoed.
He created a sword of raw magic in his hand.
Intense pink.
Precise.
His eyes were no longer those of the circus boy.
They were the eyes of someone who understood the board.
—I’ve got you.
