Matsamaru stared down at the Kurugisama wrapped tightly around his arm—its weight no longer just physical, but spiritual. The air around him seemed heavier, his breath deep and steady, bracing for what was ahead.
Haru, without turning fully, shifted his head slightly back towards the group, his voice calm but commanding.
"Support me with ranged and distraction attacks. Don't give him room to breathe… I'll be the meat shield.
Henji whispered under his breath,
*"…Haru-san…"*
Haru advanced slowly at first, then burst into a sprint. In an instant, he vanished—only to reappear behind Chimaru. He sensed the move coming.
Chimaru spun around sharply, expecting to catch him—but Haru was already there, standing firm in front of him.
It was too late.
Chimaru's eyes widened in realization, but no escape.
With crushing force, Haru's fist slammed into Chimaru's stomach, sending him hurtling through the shattered rubble like a ragdoll.
Shino and Akira shot forward, dashing past Haru—who remained frozen mid-punch, his stance unwavering.
With no weapons in hand, they grabbed what they could—broken wood, splinters, anything from the wreckage. Blow after blow rained down on Chimaru, giving him no room to retaliate. Each strike landed with raw desperation, until finally, Akira spun forward with a final hit that launched Chimaru across the field, his body crashing and sliding violently across the soaked, muddy earth.
The world fell still.
All eyes locked on Chimaru's crumpled figure, half-buried in the wet soil.
He began to rise.
A dreadful smile crawled across his face—mud smeared, teeth bared unnaturally wide, lips stretching to the point of tearing. His eyes were hollow, unblinking, monstrous.
Everyone froze, a chill crawling up their spines.
Except Haru.
Expressionless. Calm.
He clenched his fists once. Twice. Thrice.
And then—he vanished.
A streak of wind. A blur of motion.
But just as Haru closed the gap—
—he was gone.
Transported mid-motion, his body lost all momentum as he stumbled through space… completely unbalanced.
He looked ahead—there was nothing. No ground, no horizon, just emptiness. Tilting his gaze upward, the void stretched endlessly above.
Glancing down, he realized he was standing on water. The vast ocean spread beneath him.
He stumbled, falling—but instead of sinking, he floated atop the waves.
Suddenly, the ocean surged, swallowing him whole. He was pulled under, drowning without struggle. He knew this was no ordinary water—he believed it was an illusion.
Then, without warning, he was yanked from the depths.
As he sank deeper into the ocean, thoughts raced: So that's why he-Chimaru- was smiling… Where am I? What is this place?
The next moment, he was plummeting through a starry night sky, hurtling toward a sprawling, dark forest below.
He spiraled mid-air, landing with a tense roll. His brows furrowed sharply—this wasn't just displacement. The atmosphere was cold, ancient, still. The next moment, he found himself standing behind a weathered tree, a small shrine resting solemnly ahead.
His breathing slowed.
"What… is this place? This doesn't feel like an illusion. It's… too real."
From within the shrine, a man stepped out. He didn't look toward Haru, yet it felt as though the forest itself acknowledged his presence.
Then, calmly, the man spoke:
"I can sense you. No need to hide."
Haru's eyes widened.
"He saw me? What kind of technique—?!"
The man opened his eyes slowly.
"I knew this day would come… Haru-sama."
Haru instinctively took a step back.
"He… knows me? Who is this?"
He steadied himself.
"Fine. If he sees me, then I'll face him."
But just as he prepared to step forward, another presence emerged.
A figure no older than nineteen, draped in an oversized purple robe that concealed his arms, sandals brushing against the forest floor. A wide straw hat veiled his face. He approached with slow, steady steps and stopped near the shrine.
"I wasn't hiding," the figure said. "I was waiting... for you to arrive."
The old man smiled, serene and knowing.
"I see. By your presence, it's clear. You've come for me."
He turned fully to the veiled figure.
"Then grant me one wish, Haru-sama."
The figure remained still.
"Please... Save humanity. Erase the evil from this world. Do not die in your duty. You are a god. Your strength is nearing Metsubō's… This may be our last hope."
Slowly, the adult Haru unsheathed a blade from his back. A weapon wrapped in ancient energy—its aura alone bent the air around it.
The real Haru, hidden behind the tree, froze.
"Wait—what am I-? Is that… me? Did Chimaru's possession trigger this? That sword… that's the—OKUKIZI?!"
His pulse raced.
The blade created by DEMAND… The most dangerous weapon in all existence…
The older Haru rolled the Okukizi in his palm—light shimmering off its obsidian edge.
A weapon not meant for mortals.
Not even gods.
Adult Haru looked at the man before him, confusion etching his face.
"Oi… why does it feel like I've been here before? Is this a loop?"
The air thickened with tension.
Adult Haru stood silently, facing the massive, hollow tree where the real Haru now stood—watching. A cold, unreadable stare burned beneath the brim of his straw hat. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he removed the hat and dropped it to the ground.
Real Haru instinctively stepped back.
"I… I can be seen? What is this?" he whispered.
Adult Haru closed his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Ah… I see now," he said quietly, then turned back to the old man.
"I'm meant to spare you… so I will."
The old man froze, eyes wide.
"Eh…?"
Without another glance, Adult Haru turned away, sheathing his sword across his back. "You'll wither and die soon anyway," he muttered. "Just don't chase immortality."
The old man stood rooted, stunned. This was the man they called a merciless reaper… and he had just walked away.
Behind the tree, the real Haru stood in disbelief. "That… was me?"
And then—
The ground beneath him vanished.
He plummeted into darkness, memories of the adult Haru flashing in rapid bursts through his mind as he fell into the unknown