The hall was painted in blood and smoke. Ken's roar still echoed from the other side of the floor, his blade splitting air like thunder.
But on Itsuki's end everything slowed. The ringing in his ears faded, his vision sharpened, and the weight of killing intent pressed down like gravity itself.
Across from him stood Nayuta.
Her black wrap dress clung to her as she tilted her head, eyes gleaming with amusement. The faint smear of blood on her cheek only made her grin wider.
"Still standing? That's cute," she said, reloading one of her twin pistols with a click so crisp it cut through the silence. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Itsuki spat blood and cracked his neck. "You talk way too much."
Nayuta raised her pistol, smirking. "And you aim too slow."
The first shot grazed his cheek —the next shattered the tile beside his head. Itsuki blinked once, vanishing from her sight. When he appeared again, his fist drove into her ribs, hard enough to lift her off the ground.
She coughed blood, twisted mid-air, and kicked him across the face, boots cutting through wind like blades.
Itsuki hit the wall, pushed off, and snarled, "You're not fucking stopping me."
"Good," she grinned, flicking her pistol aside and tightening her gloves. "I hate when they stop early."
Then they clashed again
Bare hands, gunfire, and shattering marble.
Itsuki drove her back with every hit, every punch echoing like thunder in the narrow hallway.
Nayuta's body slammed against the wall — tiles cracked under the impact. Blood dripped from her nose, but the woman laughed through it, her grin sharp and wild.
"You hit harder than you look," she said, spitting blood. "But playtime's over."
Itsuki didn't wait for her to finish he blurred forward again, fist cocked, but this time she didn't block. She dropped both pistols with a metallic clink, her hands sliding to the knives strapped along her thigh.
Her eyes went white. The air warped around her.
"—Shintai."
Itsuki's fist stopped an inch before her face. He blinked and suddenly pain exploded through his stomach.
He looked down. Three knives buried deep.
Nayuta's voice brushed his ear, low and cold. "You thought you were the only one who could use it?"
Before he could react, her heel slammed into his jaw, the sound of bone cracking filled the corridor. Another kick followed, then another fast, precise, merciless. Itsuki tried to block, but she moved like smoke; every strike landed where his guard wasn't.
She spun, her knee smashing into his ribs, then slammed him against the wall hard enough to dent the concrete.
Blood sprayed across the floor. His shintai flickered, pupils returning, light dying in his eyes.
Nayuta caught his collar and whispered, almost lovingly,
"Next time you swing at me, make sure you can fucking finish the job."
She threw him aside like a ragdoll his body crashed into a broken column, sliding down in silence and then she sat on Itsuki's chest, pinning him beneath her. The sensation wasn't comforting it was a cold, suffocating assertion of power.
She dipped her head, pressing a cool, almost clinical kiss against his cheek.
"You were good," she murmured, her voice a low, dangerous purr that tickled his ear. She didn't move back, keeping her face intimately close. "And I like you. You're strong, and you feel so warm right now."
She slid a single, gloved finger across his lower lip, tracing the shape with deliberate slowness, silencing his frustrated groan.
Her eyes, usually darting and wild, were narrowed with a predatory, possessive focus.
"This feels so damn good," she continued, her breath feathering against his skin. She leaned her torso down, pressing their bodies together. "Don't you dare resist if you wanna live."
She shifted her hips, a calculated move to remind him of his helplessness. Her thumb brushed his chin, tilting his face up toward hers. She took a slow, deep breath, savoring the moment as she closed the final gap between them her lips just inches from his.
Then, a sickening thump-thump-drag echoed from the stairwell.
Nifumi appeared at the third-floor landing, dragging Izuku's unresponsive body by one ankle his head bumped on the marble floor with each step.
Nifumi stopped dead, his brow furrowed as he took in the scene: Nayuta suspended over Itsuki, frozen in the act.
"What in the hell is going on here?" Nifumi's voice cut through the heavy silence.
He dropped Izuku's leg, and the body settled with a heavy, final sound. "Nephew, we're here for revenge, not a damn high school romance. I thought you were a one-girl guy."
Nayuta twisted her head, her gaze shifting between Nifumi and the crumpled Izuku. A frustrated, pouty sigh escaped her. "Oh, my. You ruined my kiss. What a bad bad man you are."
It was the precious second Itsuki needed.
He surged upward, slamming his forehead into her chin with a desperate, sharp crack. Nayuta staggered back, disoriented, giving him just enough room to shove her off his chest. He scrambled backward until his shoulders hit the wall near Nifumi.
"I am a one-girl guy," Itsuki gasped, wincing from his wounds. "This bitch was forcing herself on me."
Nifumi threw his head back and let out a roar of genuine laughter. "Wow! What a lucky man you are!" He leaned down, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur meant only for Itsuki. "She's so hot, nephew."
Itsuki glared at him, annoyance momentarily overcoming the pain, then looked past him at the sight of Izuku. "Why were you dragging him by the leg?"
Nifumi shrugged, his smile returning. "He wanted to meet my brother. So, I'm taking him there. But that can wait." His smile faded, replaced by cold calculation as he eyed Itsuki's bleeding injuries. "You're in a pretty bad condition. Bleeding. Stab wounds."
Before Nifumi could finish the thought, Nayuta's hand flashed. Three gleaming black throwing knives sliced through the air toward them.
Nifumi didn't flinch. He simply extended his left hand and caught all three blades mid-flight the steel clinking perfectly into his open palm.
He turned his focus entirely on Nayuta, his eyes demonic. "Are you fucking trying to interrupt me," he asked, his voice low and devoid of warmth, "when I'm talking to my family?"
Nayuta feels the air shift a pressure she can't quite explain, but it crawls under her skin. The man with demonic eyes and who casually caught her knives isn't someone she wants to test. She exhales slowly and takes a step back.
"...Tch. You're not the one I'm fighting," she mutters, keeping her eyes on Nifumi.
Itsuki, breathing hard, blood running down his arm, raises his hand. "It's my fight," he says, voice tight but steady. "Calm down, Nifumi."
Nifumi grins wide, tilting his head like a predator watching prey amuse itself. "Alright, alright. You better win though." He sits cross-legged on Izuku's body, tapping his katana sheath like it's a drum. "I'll just sit here and cheer. Don't embarrass the family name."
Itsuki smirks through the pain. "Then root for me properly asshole."
Nifumi laughs, "Oh I am! Just don't die before I finish counting to ten."
Nayuta's lips curl into a grin. "Confident for someone bleeding out." She dashes forward, her foot cutting through the air toward his face.
Itsuki flicks a small marble chunk from the ground it whistles past her cheek, close enough to make her flinch. "You missed," she says, twisting midair to counterattack.
But Itsuki is already whispering, low and sharp: "Shintai."
The moment she lands, he's there faster, heavier. His hand clamps around her ankle. He slams her down so hard the floor cracks.
"Too slow," he says, panting.
Nayuta grins, flipping backward, landing on her feet again. "You're learning… huh. You weren't this fast a minute ago." She lunges in again, knees aiming for his ribs, fists following up with lightning precision. Itsuki barely blocks, his counterpunch grazes her jaw.
Nifumi laughs from behind them. "Look at you two! It's like watching an action movie with better sound effects." He claps once. "C'mon nephew, punch her like she owes you lunch money!"
"Shut up!" Itsuki growls, dodging another kick.
Nayuta grits her teeth, breathing heavier now. "You're… adapting," she says between attacks, eyes narrowing. "You're reading my rhythm."
Itsuki grins faintly. "Guess that's what happens when you train under two fucking demons."
Nifumi grins, showing teeth. "Flattery will get you nowhere, but I'll take it."
Nayuta leaps high, spinning, her heel coming down in a crushing arc Itsuki blocks with both arms, sliding back on the ground, sparks scattering under his shoes. She smirks. "Let's see how long that shintai lasts."
Itsuki tightens his fists, eyes burning with defiance. "Long enough to put you down."
Itsuki and Nayuta moved like two storms colliding strike, counter, feint, reply the corridor a blur of feet, fists and the metallic taste of adrenaline.
Nayuta laughed between blows, breath sharp. "You're getting faster and faster. But you still think you can end this?"
Itsuki spat blood and answered through clenched teeth, "I don't think. I do."
She hammered a knee into his side; he bit down on pain and answered with an elbow that snapped her ribs. She grinned, wiping blood from her lip. "Good. You hit like a pissed-off dog." She followed with a whip-fast roundhouse; Itsuki ducked under it and swung, his fist colliding with her jaw so hard she stumbled.
They traded hits for a long, brutal minute Nayuta's pistol-then-knife rhythm versus Itsuki's raw, growing ferocity. She used gun-kata footwork to pivot, firing off phantom shots to keep his guard split, then closed and rained down knees and spinning elbows. He answered with bursts of brutal, animal punching: liver, jaw, ribs. Each connection made the air thud.
"You're learning my pattern," she said, breathless but sharp-eyed.
Nifumi's laugh came from the doorway light and mocking. "That's it! Break her rhythm, nephew! Don't let her breathe!" He clapped slowly like an audience at a theater. "Ooh, that one looked expensive. Hit harder!"
Nayuta spat and retaliated with a flurry so fast Itsuki barely had time to block heel into sternum, palm to throat, knife flick aimed at his ribs. He staggered back, vision blurring for a beat; she pressed the advantage, slamming him against a cracked pillar and kneeing him until he could breathe.
He fell back, fists shaking. Her voice softened with dark amusement. "You do this long enough, you'll forget pain. But you'll remember how to kill." She stepped forward the knives in her hands glittering.
Itsuki's eyes flicked to the ground; a dropped service pistol lay half-buried in dust. Empty. He picked it up with shaking fingers, the metal cold. He brought it up, aimed and at the last heartbeat, he threw it. The pistol spun, clanging off her cheek and skittering past her shoulder.
"Shit!" Nayuta snapped, reflexes carrying her three steps clear just enough.
That tiny misdirect was the opening he needed. Itsuki vanished like a shadow. He reappeared in a heartbeat at her flank and unloaded a storm: fists like jackhammers, punching into ribs, jaw, temple a barrage, relentless and merciless. Thirty, forty, fifty hits came in a breathless fusillade; Nayuta's breath came ragged, her knees wobbling. She tried to counter, to grab his wrist, to twist but his strikes were a machine now, honed by Hayato and the week of hell Nifumi forced into him.
"You think this works on me?" she gasped between blows, blood and spit in the corner of her mouth. "You're delusional if you—"
His gloved knuckles smashed into her cheekbone, erupting her words into a wet sound. He didn't stop. Sixty. Seventy. The corridor rang with the percussion of his fists.
Nifumi's voice rose, delighted and absurdly theatrical. "Yes! Yes! That's my nephew! Don't don't stop now! One hundred hits, I wanna count a hundred!" He whooped like a lunatic, hands over his mouth as if trying to muffle a cheer.
Eighty. Ninety. Itsuki's shoulders burned; his lungs burned; the world tunneled white at the edges. But every muscle answered. Each punch was a promise and a release for Miyu, for everything he'd lost. Ninety-five. Ninety-six.
On the hundredth hit, Nayuta's knees finally folded. Her body went slack as if a switch had been flipped; she slumped forward, unconscious before she hit the tiles. The corridor fell into a stunned, echoing silence.
Itsuki stood above her, chest heaving, arms shaking so much his hands trembled. Blood ran from his mouth and nose; his vision swam. He stayed on his feet because there was no other choice because collapsing felt like surrender.
Nifumi walked over, clapped once with slow, exaggerated ceremony and grinned like a mad king. "Bravo. That was sublime. You didn't die. You didn't break. Well done, nephew." He flicked a speck of blood from his sleeve. "Don't black out now. We've got a war to win."