The storm refused to cease. Its voice was a thousand shrieking spirits as snow and ice swallowed the world in pale oblivion. The ruined courtyard, half-buried in white, became the stage where the three stood trembling, facing a monster whose very presence eclipsed their youth. The middle-aged Oni warrior—horns sharp, red-streaked curls whipping in the wind—licked the blood from his lips with an amused hunger. His ruby-forged blades glowed like rivers of molten stone, pulsing against the blizzard's icy breath.
Rūpu's knuckles bled against his hilt. He stared across the storm at the grinning Oni, ribs rattling with every breath, his lungs close to bursting. Isshun crouched low at his side, dagger twitching with every tremor in his arm. Hanae swayed slightly on her sandals, her purple kimono flapping like a torn banner, they were battered, bruised, trembling on the edge of collapse.
And yet, the fire in their eyes had not gone out.
The Oni chuckled, his smirk widening. "Still standing? Children should've crumbled by now. Perhaps your bones are harder than most peoples... or perhaps you've simply not tasted despair deep enough yet."
He stepped forward. Step. Step. The echo returned, louder than before, almost louder than the storm itself.
Rūpu swallowed, sweat burning his throat. His voice was hoarse, but his defiance rang sharp. "We'll never bow. We'll never break. Even if it kills us a hundred times."
His words struck something deep in himself—deeper than flesh, deeper than bone. His vision flickered. His heartbeat slowed, then pulsed faster. The world around him... cracked.
For the first time in this battle, his ability—the cursed blessing of the Loop—awakened in full and basically rarely did which is why he never used it much. Or basically ever...
Snow froze midair. The storm stilled. His friends, Isshun and Hanae, hung in silence, their movements trapped in strands of shimmering light. Across from him, the Oni froze mid-step, his smirk hanging like a mask.
Rūpu's breath caught. The checkpoint he had chosen earlier in the day—a fleeting, desperate whisper of instinct—surged into reality. A light burned within him, pulling his consciousness backward. He staggered as his mind and body looped from a strike that seemed to come instantly from the tall Oni.
And then—he died.
His flesh convulsed. The Oni's blade sliced him cleanly through. His throat burned with blood. Pain swallowed him whole. But even as his body crumbled in that frozen time, his spirit shattered backward, rewinding, dragged to the checkpoint he had set...
...to the moment before the Oni lunged.
Rūpu gasped, air flooding his lungs like fire. His blade was still in hand. His friends still at his side. The Oni still stepping forward, crimson eyes burning in the dark. But his wounds remained faint echoes on his body—phantom scars that bled even after the loop.
The storm hadn't fully reset. This enemy was different. Too strong. Too entrenched. The loop... warped.
Rūpu staggered, sweat running down his temples. He whispered, voice raw: "It worked... but not enough."
The Oni's smirk twitched, as though he sensed it—like he had glimpsed the shift in reality itself. His eyes glowed brighter. "Ah... that scent. You're not ordinary, are you?"
He laughed, louder, crueler. "A child with horns... and a curse." His blades slashed outward suddenly, slicing the storm itself into burning arcs of red. "Good. GOOD! Show me your trick. Show me everything!"
He lunged again, faster than before.
This time, Rūpu was ready.
His sword twisted, bending through the storm like the sorrow of his soul itself. Sparks screamed. Steel clashed. His loop-enhanced reflexes guided him just beyond the crimson arcs, his movements sharper than before.
Isshun shouted, diving in with his dagger, striking at the Oni's legs. The enemy kicked him away effortlessly, sending him sprawling through the snow, but Isshun rolled and sprang back up, fury blazing in his scarlet eyes.
Hanae stumbled forward, blade raised, her laugh breaking through her fear. "I'll trip into you if I must!" she cried, her strike clumsy but desperate. The Oni's smirk widened as he parried her with one blade while striking at Rūpu with the other.
The battle spiraled into chaos.
Rūpu looped again luckily overal—taking a mortal blow, collapsing, his stomach pierced—only to snap back moments before the strike, dodging it this time. Each death layered onto his body, phantom pains tearing through him even after resurrection. His mind burned with echoes of agony, each one threatening to break him.
The Oni noticed. His laughter boomed. "You do die differently, don't you? Fascinating! Each time you come back weaker, your bones shaking more, your eyes duller. And yet, you keep standing! What drives a kid like you to crawl from death again and again?"
Rūpu's voice broke as he blocked another strike, sparks burning his skin. "Because... I can't let them die. Not Isshun. Not Hanae. Not anyone anymore."
The Oni's smirk sharpened. "Then I'll kill them in front of you—again and again!"
He lunged. Isshun barely managed to intercept, dagger scraping crimson steel, sparks blinding his vision. Hanae screamed, charging clumsily, tripping into the Oni's swing and narrowly deflecting it with her blade. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she forced herself to stand.
"Even if I fall... I'll stand again! Because I'm with them!"
The Oni snarled, his laughter faltering just slightly. His eyes flared brighter. His blows grew heavier, crueler, filled with the intent to shatter their bond in blood.
Rūpu's body screamed, his loops tearing him apart inside, but his spirit flared brighter than the storm. He lifted his blade, the sorrow of his horns and his curse burning into a single truth.
"I don't fight for victory!" he roared, tears freezing on his face. "I fight for the bond we made in this snow! Even if I die a thousand times, even if this curse eats me whole—I'll loop until you fall!"
With a howl, he charged. His blade curved through the storm, twisting like the winds, bending time itself with the weight of his loops. The Oni's crimson blades struck to meet him, sparks exploding like stars, red light bleeding across the snow.
The clash shook the storm itself.
Isshun and Hanae leapt in beside him, their weapons trembling, their faces streaked with tears. The three children struck as one—defying despair, defying death, defying the storm.
And for the first time, the Oni staggered back.
A thin line of blood streaked his stomach. His smirk faltered. His glowing eyes narrowed, a strange flicker in them—not fear, not anger, but recognition again.
He wiped the blood from his ribs with one crimson blade. Then he laughed—louder, harsher, yet carrying a strange edge.
"Good. GOOD! I see now. You're not just children. You're fate's mistake. And I..." His smirk twisted into something darker, sharper. "I will enjoy correcting it."
He stepped back into the storm, his laughter echoing until the blizzard swallowed it whole. His presence vanished into the white, leaving only silence and blood in the snow.
Rūpu collapsed to his knees, his blade slipping from his trembling hands. Isshun dropped beside him, stomach heaving, dagger loose in his grip. Hanae stumbled, her laugh breaking into a sob, before falling to her knees as well.
The three children clung to each other in the storm, their bond sealed not in words, but in blood and tears. They had survived. But the shadow of the Oni lingered in the snow, promising he would return.
The first arc of their story had ended. But their true journey—the journey against despair, curses, and fate itself—had only just begun.
TO BE CONTINUED...