However, Shinohara Yukinori, equipped with the upgraded Arata, was no longer what he used to be.
The heavy black-green armor covered his entire body, yet instead of becoming a burden to his speed, it granted him agility powerful enough to keep up with Kirishima Ayato under its enhanced propulsion.
Facing attacks from all directions, he swung the massive cleaver-like quinque so tightly that not a single gap could be found.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
Ukaku fragments and the metal blade collided wildly, sparks flying everywhere.
Shinohara calmly blocked and evaded, the eyes hidden behind his mask coolly tracking Ayato's attack patterns.
After several rounds of intense exchanges, an opening appeared.
Shinohara accurately predicted the brief stiffness after one of Ayato's lunges.
Seizing that fleeting gap, the massive blade in his hand shifted from defense to offense and slashed diagonally with full force.
Slash.
Blood burst forth.
Ayato grunted as sharp pain erupted from his shoulder blade. A deep wound, bone visible, split open instantly, blood soaking his clothes.
He hurriedly retreated, pulling distance from Shinohara, his face turning pale.
The strength of an ukaku lay in its explosive bursts and extreme speed, but its stamina was its fatal weakness.
After that reckless assault, Ayato could clearly feel the glow of his ukaku dimming.
The kagune he released declined in speed, quantity, and power.
Worse still, the burning pain from his shoulder wound throbbed fiercely.
A ghoul's powerful regenerative ability had slowed due to the intense expenditure. The wound healed far more slowly than before.
With one side waning and the other rising, Ayato's offensive inevitably slowed and grew disordered.
Meanwhile, Shinohara grew more formidable with each exchange. Relying on Arata's overwhelming defense and strength, he steadily turned the tide, forcing Ayato into desperate defense and constant danger.
More and more wounds appeared on Ayato's body. None were fatal, but each injury accelerated the depletion of his stamina and RC cells.
His breathing grew heavy. His movements lost their initial sharpness. Signs of defeat were evident.
Under rapid exhaustion and accumulating wounds, Ayato's strength drained quickly.
Finally, Shinohara seized a massive opening caused by Ayato's fatigue.
The giant cleaver descended with unstoppable force.
Bang.
With a heavy thud, Ayato was sent flying and crashed hard onto the cold floor, dust scattering.
He struggled to rise, but the pain coursing through his body and deep exhaustion left him unable to move for the moment.
Shinohara approached slowly, blade in hand. Yet he did not deliver the finishing blow as he would against an ordinary ghoul.
He stopped and gazed thoughtfully at the fallen boy.
Something was not right.
From the moment this battle began, from the instant he activated Arata, he had felt a faint resistance.
This armor, which once moved like an extension of his own limbs and greatly amplified his power, felt unusually sluggish today.
It seemed to possess a will of its own, resisting the act of delivering a fatal strike to the boy before him. Especially when power needed to surge for a decisive blow, that resistance became particularly evident.
Combined with the boy's earlier roar filled with hatred and complexity, "You really are here, you bastard old man," a clear yet heavy conclusion surfaced in Shinohara's mind.
The core of this upgraded Arata, the Kakuhou that provided its tremendous power, likely came from this boy's father.
Was the quinque sensing a blood-related child and therefore holding back?
The thought shook him, and he could not help recalling the ghoul in the 11th Ward who had spared them and said something meaningful.
"If it has a soul, it does not seem inclined to lend you its power."
At the time, he had not fully understood, dismissing it as psychological warfare.
But now, feeling the faint yet stubborn resistance from Arata, Shinohara began to understand.
Perhaps a quinque truly carried some fragment of a soul from its original owner, something beyond scientific explanation.
He looked at Ayato on the ground, breathing heavily with hatred and unwillingness, and then at the armor derived from his father.
Humans fought to protect loved ones. Ghouls fought to find their families.
Who was wrong.
It seemed no one was absolutely wrong.
Shinohara sighed heavily. The cleaver he had raised did not fall again.
A weariness beyond factional boundaries washed over him.
If there had to be something at fault, perhaps it was this world that forced humans and ghouls to slaughter one another and made father and son meet in such a cruel way.
At that moment, the corridor outside Cochlea's central control room was silent. The air was thick with the stench of blood.
Associate Special-Class Investigator Houji Kousuke and his partner, Second-Class Investigator Takizawa Seidou, cautiously advanced into the area.
Takizawa looked at the lifeless guards on the ground, his voice tight. "Houji Kousuke, the guards... they're all dead."
The moment his words fell, the heavy door of the central control room ahead clicked and slowly opened inward.
A tall figure stepped out calmly from the shadows behind it. Tatara.
Houji Kousuke's pupils contracted sharply. Almost instinctively, he stepped sideways to shield Takizawa Seidou behind him, his tone firm. "Takizawa-kun, fall back. Do not approach."
Gripping his quinque case tightly, he walked forward alone toward the dangerous presence.
At the other end of the corridor, Tatara saw him and continued forward as well.
They stopped face to face in the center of the corridor thick with death. The air seemed frozen. Even breathing was audible.
Tatara's cold eyes narrowed slightly, locking onto Houji Kousuke. His low voice broke the silence, carrying long-suppressed chill.
"Houji..."
"It has been a long time."
Houji Kousuke's expression was grave. The fingers gripping his case turned pale from force. "I see. You are also a member of Aogiri Tree."
The words ignited the restrained flames in Tatara's eyes.
His voice carried a trace of uncontrollable emotion as he spoke word by word.
"Return Fei... and Yan... to me."
Before his words fully settled, his eyes were flooded with crimson. Kakugan emerged, and violent killing intent filled the corridor like a tangible force.
Facing the terrifying pressure, Houji did not retreat. His gaze held firm refusal.
"Unfortunately..."
"That is no longer possible."
At the same time, his thumb pressed the activation button on his quinque case without hesitation.
With a light mechanical sound and a faint glow of energy, the case rapidly transformed and unfolded, finally forming a uniquely designed hand cannon-type quinque in his grip, gleaming with metallic coldness.
The battle was about to erupt.