It was genjutsu.
Caught completely off guard, Rikusei was drawn in by Naori's newly evolved Sharingan. The astonishment in his eyes faded away bit by bit.
With a thud, Rikusei fell to the ground, feeling the world spin around him. When his vision cleared, he looked at the familiar triple-layered Illusion Space and sighed helplessly.
The girls confronting each other outside were no longer what they used to be. Any one of them could easily ride roughshod over him and suppress him from a position of superiority.
Touching the wall of the space, Rikusei's Sharingan moved with his fingertips. He quietly lamented that temporarily running away seemed like a pretty good choice.
Lying on the ground beneath the moonlight, a trace of serenity silently surfaced on the boy's peaceful face, as though he had fallen into a deep sleep.
"Is it shame, or guilt, that keeps you from drawing the Futsu-no-Mitama you once took such pride in?"
Stepping across the uneven ground and advancing at a peculiar rhythm, Naori saw that Rikusei would not interfere. A trace of coldness flashed through her blood-red eyes. "Or are you too ashamed to use the swordsmanship I once taught you?"
The two consecutive questions made Mao loosen her clenched fingers, and the Kunai in her grasp fell crisply to the ground with a drip.
Those emotionless words came like blades. Mao furrowed her delicate brows, gathering the fighting spirit between them into a single point as she completely discarded the fantasy of gaining happiness through negotiation.
"People cannot suppress their true feelings. If I like someone, then I like them. Even if this love has been stained by unbearable betrayal and filth, I will still persist until the end."
Her golden eyes shone with determination. Seeing the apple of the purple-haired girl's cheek