Part 6 — The Blood on the Floor
The rest of them surged forward as one.
Emotionless and Energetic slammed into his legs, coiling like steel, dragging him down.
Haruto and the serious one crashed onto his upper body, hands locking onto shoulders and arms, driving all his weight to the floor.
The fearful and innocent ones hesitated above with the big shuriken, trembling, but the others held firm beneath.
Together, the ten wills pinned him utterly—arms, legs, body, weight crushing any chance of rising.
The enemy thrashed, muscles straining, but every movement was met, countered, contained.
The giant shuriken wobbled in the innocent one's hands.
"I-I can't… I'm… I'm scared!" he stammered, trembling.
The fearful one's voice was sharp, strained, but steadying.
"Hey! Don't freak out! I've got you—we're fine! Just hold on!"
His hands shook even more, eyes wide.
"But—He is moving! I—I can't—"
"Listen to me!" he snapped, gripping his shoulder. "We're not alone! We've got the others! Just… just focus!"
He nodded shakily, trying to breathe, trying to regain control.
But the enemy shifted—just slightly, a subtle twist of his body—and it was enough.
The shuriken slipped.
Time slowed.
The massive blade tipped, tilting forward, falling straight toward the enemy's back.
His gasp froze in her throat.
Fear's eyes went wide. "No—!"
But it was too late.
The shuriken struck.
The impact reverberated through the room.
Haruto's hands slipped.
The enemy seized the moment. With a sudden surge, he threw Haruto backward across the floor, the air whipping around him as he landed hard.
The enemy's hands moved fast—gripping the giant shuriken lodged in his back—and ripped it free in a violent motion.
It clattered to the ground, heavy and metallic.
For a moment, everything froze.
It seemed… over.
Calm moved quickly, eyes sharp. He slid forward and placed the shuriken safely in a corner, far enough that no one could be hurt.
The room fell silent.
The serious one exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging slightly.
"I… guess he's dead," he muttered, voice low.
But just as Joy exhaled with relief, something brushed against his feet.
His eyes snapped down.
Blood trailed across the floor from the enemy's body. A slight, almost imperceptible motion stirred in the crimson pool.
Haruto froze.
Dark red pooled across the floor.
It spread slowly, deliberately, glinting under the light.
The metallic scent hit him full force.
He stared.
Clenched his fists.
"B-BLOOD…!" he screamed, voice raw, echoing through the house.
His vision blurred around the edges.
Everything felt heavy.
The enemy, the shuriken, the clones—all faded into the background.
All he could see was the red.
Haruto's hands shot to his head, fingers digging into his hair as panic ripped through him, vision swimming, voice cracking as he screamed, "BLOOD!" over and over.
His knees buckled, vision spinning violently, and with a final, guttural scream, Haruto crumpled to the floor, limp and trembling, utterly overtaken by fear.
And in that instant, one by one, the clones vanished, as panic ripped through Haruto, and then, overwhelmed, he fainted, collapsing to the floor.