Idle Transfiguration: Reverse

At four thirty in the morning, the streetlights stretched their shadows across the street.

Mahito tilted his head, the corner of his stitched mouth curling upward.

He paid no mind to what Mashiro had said. Instead, he walked toward her, step by step.

"I thought this was really interesting during our last fight."

He extended his right hand and spread his fingers, the streetlight illuminating his sickly pale hand.

"Your soul. The first time I touched it, I could still make out a little of its shape. The second time, I couldn't touch it at all." Mahito raised his hand before his eyes and looked at Mashiro through his fingers.

"I spent ages thinking about it afterward, but I couldn't figure it out. Can you tell me why?"

Murasame appeared in Mashiro's palm, moonlight illuminating the silvery blade. She smiled faintly. "It doesn't matter. Forget about it."

"Fine, keep it to yourself." Mahito's smile vanished. He pushed off the ground and charged at her.

He was faster than last time.

Mashiro turned sideways and swept Murasame horizontally.

The blade passed across Mahito's chest, but only grazed a layer of skin.

The instant he was hit, he changed the density of his chest muscles, minimizing the damage.

But Murasame's special effectiveness against cursed spirits took effect. The wound across Mahito's chest tore open instantly, and his ribs were severed as well.

"Urgh!"

Mahito retreated three meters, then quickly repaired his body with Idle Transfiguration.

"I was already being careful enough around your blade. I didn't expect it to have that ability, too." As he spoke, Mahito attacked Mashiro again.

"Don't worry. There are plenty more surprises coming."

"Haha, then I can't wait to see them!"

Mahito pressed the fingers of his right hand together and thrust them at Mashiro's face.

Mashiro tilted her head. His fingertips skimmed her left ear, severing a few strands of silver hair.

She followed through by lowering her center of gravity, sweeping Murasame upward toward Mahito's wrist.

Mahito pulled back his hand and retreated half a step, then narrowed his eyes with a smile. "That was close. So close. You almost cut me."

He flexed the wrist grazed by the blade's wake. A thin slit had opened in the skin, and the wound writhed as new tissue filled the gap.

Mashiro glanced at his wrist, flicked Murasame, and settled back into her stance. "What's wrong? Is dodging all you can do?"

His smile faded, his expression growing more serious. "In that case, let's try something different."

Mahito spread his arms. His body writhed violently and began to transform.

His right arm lengthened, two extra jointed segments growing from his elbow, and his fingers became twelve. His left arm swelled, muscles piling upon muscles, its palm growing large enough to grip a person's head. His legs bent backward, and hooked claws sprouted from his feet.

"What do you think?" Mahito's voice emerged from his crooked mouth. "This is one of my favorite forms. A few of the humans I modified still had their pain receptors. I learned this from them."

"Hmph. All show." Mashiro's expression turned cold. "You'll pay for what you've done."

With that, Mashiro stepped forward and appeared before Mahito in an instant, bringing Murasame down in a vicious slash.

Mahito froze for a moment and tried to block with his right hand, but Murasame suddenly turned transparent, passing through his arm before cutting into his shoulder.

Whoosh!

Vibrating at high frequency, Murasame severed his arm.

Mahito gritted his teeth and lashed his left arm at Mashiro like a whip.

Mashiro raised Murasame to block.

The instant his fingers collided with the blade, she sensed something wrong.

Every one of Mahito's fingers changed direction upon touching the blade, curling around her guard to grab her sword hand.

She immediately let go. As Murasame vanished from her left palm, the blade reappeared in her right, and she severed two fingers with a single slash.

Mahito withdrew his arm. The flesh at the severed stumps writhed as new fingers grew.

He watched Mashiro with an expression that suggested he was admiring something fascinating.

"Such quick reactions."

"That's not the point, is it?"

Mashiro stared at Mahito's regenerating fingers as the Dharma Wheel above her head spun faster.

Click, click, click.

Adaptation to physical attacks had already begun, but physical attacks weren't Mahito's main threat.

She hadn't sensed any adaptation to Idle Transfiguration last time. She didn't know whether adaptation was why it hadn't worked.

She had to confirm it.

Mashiro charged in and unleashed three consecutive slashes with Murasame.

Mahito blocked with his transformed arm. Every clash cost him fingers, but he didn't care.

Whenever they were cut off, they grew back instantly. They were different from humans. As long as they had enough cursed energy, they could keep regenerating.

Mashiro deliberately made her fourth slash half a beat slower.

Mahito seized the opening. His transformed hand slipped past the side of the blade and pressed against Mashiro's left shoulder.

"Got you."

Idle Transfiguration activated.

Then Mahito's smile froze.

His cursed energy flowed into Mashiro's shoulder and touched her soul, but a second later, it vanished without a trace, like a clay ox sinking into the sea.

There was no shape on the surface of her soul that he could grasp. His cursed technique had nothing to work with.

Mashiro reversed her blade and thrust Murasame through Mahito's palm.

Mahito leaped backward, putting distance between them. He looked down at the hole in his palm that refused to heal, then back up at Mashiro.

"...That's just cheating."

Mashiro didn't pursue him. She was checking the Dharma Wheel's feedback.

The analysis progress for Idle Transfiguration had barely moved. How strange. Does it not need to adapt because it doesn't work on me?

It had been the same during their previous two encounters. Mahito's Idle Transfiguration hadn't reached her soul at all, so it couldn't trigger adaptation.

"Too weak," Mashiro said flatly. "Your cursed technique doesn't work on me. That's three times now."

Mahito shook his hand. The hole in his palm had already healed, and he was thinking.

"Mm, you're right." He prodded his chin with a finger. "Idle Transfiguration changes the shape of a soul through contact. I can't touch your soul, so I can't change it."

He tilted his head at Mashiro.

"But changing its shape isn't the only way to make contact with a soul."

Mashiro frowned. What's that supposed to mean?

"It's like pushing a wall with your hand. The wall won't move, but your hand will feel that it's there." Mahito extended his right hand and spread his fingers. "The reverse is true, too. The wall won't move, but when you push it, it's pushing you as well."

He took a step forward. "I'm curious about something myself. You're clearly not human, so why are you siding with humans?"

Mashiro tightened her grip on Murasame. "Are you messing with me? How dare you underestimate me."

"No, no, no. I mean, if you're not human, why not join us?" Mahito invited Mashiro in a sincere tone. "Curses are the new humanity that should replace humans. You're just like us."

Mashiro raised Murasame, pointing the tip at Mahito.

"No." Her voice dripped with mockery. "I'm going to be a champion of justice. Who the hell do you think you are?"

Mahito watched her in silence for a few seconds, then smiled.

"Is that so?"

He raised both hands in front of his chest, palms facing each other.

"Then I'll let you see for yourself what you really are."

His legs took on the shape of an antelope's, and he appeared before Mashiro in an instant, his hand touching her shoulder.

"Idle Transfiguration: Reverse."

Rather than trying to touch Mashiro's soul, he used his cursed technique to draw it out.

Mashiro's body jolted. She felt the Mahoraga portion of her soul being guided into manifestation.

Click, click, click, click, click.

The Dharma Wheel began spinning wildly. It had gone out of control.