Mahito stood at the very back, trembling uncontrollably.
That day, Mahito remembered the terror of being at Qingxiao's mercy.
"Don't just stand there!" Jogo abruptly snapped out of it and barked, the flames atop his head surging higher:
"No matter how strong he is, he's still only one person. If we work together, we might stand a chance!"
But despite his words, he had no confidence himself.
Qingxiao leaned against a twisted rail with his arms folded, watching them with interest.
"What, one just left, and now you four want a turn?" His tone was flippant, openly mocking:
"I thought you'd run off with him. After all, when that guy got punched through just now, every one of you was standing as far away as possible."
The words pricked like a needle, stoking Jogo's anger. He was about to lash out when Hanami's roots gently stopped him.
Hanami turned its branches toward Mahito beside it, its voice low and even, carrying the distinctive weight of vegetation:
"Mahito, you go first."
Mahito froze for a moment. "What?"
"You're different from us." Jogo reined in his anger too, his voice growing somber:
"Your Idle Transfiguration is the future of cursed spirits. Whether the Shibuya plan succeeds, whether humanity can be rewritten-it all rests on you.
You can't die here."
Dagon let out a low hum. The water rippled slightly as it slowly moved to shield Mahito.
It said nothing, but its actions made its position clear.
The four of them were the ones who truly belonged together.
They had struggled side by side since their birth, talked about a future where cursed spirits could live openly in the sunlight, argued and bickered, but never abandoned one another.
Choso was an outsider, one of Kenjaku's people. Whether he died or got hurt had