The Decisive Clash

Yahiko, focused and furious, glared at the Yokaï growling in front of him. His double, still showing a glowing counter at 95%, stood ready to confront it—a dark, tangible reflection of this colossal threat.

Yahiko grabbed a sword lying in an old cart, among roughly piled weapons. He knew he had to act as support, harassing the creature while his double absorbed the blows and struck back. But despite his resolve, fear clung to his skin like a second layer.

The demon wasn't just a monstrous beast: it was fast, strategic—a war machine with murderous intelligence. Yahiko had seen it slaughter, dodge, anticipate. He knew that even the slightest misstep would mean his end.

Each heartbeat seemed to hammer this truth into him. Holding his weapon, he felt his fingers tremble slightly. He inhaled deeply, trying to focus on every breath, every signal from the demon's body.

Despite the fear, his mind remained clear: he instinctively understood that he needed to synchronize his actions with those of his double. But even with this strange weapon at his side, victory was far from certain.

"If I falter, even for a moment… it's over," he thought.

The double beside him, cloaked in a menacing aura, already seemed ready to strike. Yahiko tightened his grip on the sword's handle, his breathing just barely stabilizing.

In this silent standoff, the night suddenly seemed endless.

Suddenly, a deep rumble filled the air.The Yokaï lunged at Yahiko and his double in the blink of an eye, unleashing a furious barrage of punches with its massive fists.

The double instinctively stepped in front of Yahiko and deflected most of the blows with almost animal-like agility. Yet, it took a direct hit to the abdominal belt; the counter immediately dropped to 90%. Instead of retreating, the Shadow retaliated without hesitation: its claws and spiked tail struck the still-fresh wound on the demon's side. The Yokaï narrowly dodged, but its balance faltered.

Taking advantage of the opening, Yahiko vanished and moved around the monster, positioning himself behind it. He aimed for its joints—those narrow, vulnerable areas—far more accessible to him than the large, reinforced surfaces. He knew full well he couldn't truly injure it, or even cut deeply, but at least he could disrupt it, drawing a precious share of its attention.

Even though the demon was taking devastating blows from the double, Yahiko could feel each movement resonate through his own body—like a crushing echo threatening to break him. And yet, somewhere deep within, a spark burned brighter than ever.

A strange heat, almost painful, rose in his chest: an oppressive aura, as if a supernatural force was awakening in his blood. He felt as though he was holding his ground against the demon thanks to this new energy, and despite the fear, the sensation was intoxicating.

The chaos of the battle was almost hypnotic: blows flew in all directions, and the three opponents moved like a furious pack, attacking and defending without rest. For long minutes, Yahiko and the double began to gain the upper hand over the creature.

But Yahiko made a mistake. He forgot a crucial detail: the counter above the double was slowly, relentlessly decreasing.75%, then 65%, as it absorbed the Yokaï's savage onslaughts.

At that moment, the demon sensed a slight lapse in Yahiko's guard. It immediately tried to impale him with its tail, aiming directly at his skull. The Shadow, instinctively understanding the danger, intervened with a brutal sweep, knocking the demon's legs out from under it and saving Yahiko from certain death. Still, the attack grazed his face, leaving a long, bloody gash on his cheek.

Yahiko fell backward but got up instantly. He wiped away the blood trickling from his wound with the back of his hand, his eyes burning with feverish determination. He leapt forward again, this time side by side with his Shadow.

They launched their assault together—Yahiko focusing his strikes on the wound left by the Guardians, while the double maintained pressure.

The Yokaï growled, stepping back. Its breathing grew heavier, more ragged; its gaze flickered between maddened rage and a fleeting hint of panic.

"One more push…!" Yahiko whispered, eyes blazing.

The battle continued—brutal, breathless.Yahiko advanced in perfect sync with his double: he harassed the creature with quick, precise strikes while the Shadow took the hits and countered relentlessly.

The counter dropped to 55%.

But finally, the Yokaï showed clear signs of weakness: deep cuts, bleeding gashes, and a rage that was growing increasingly desperate.

Now realizing it was losing the fight—unable to see or comprehend the counter above the double—the creature decided to retreat, leaping backward. As soon as it landed, it prepared a "Slash" energy attack aimed directly at Yahiko.

But an unexpected intervention stopped its momentum just before the wave could be released.

Mata!

Summoning all the strength he had left, he clung to the demon's leg with his one good arm, pulling with all his might to the side. Though the gesture seemed futile, it was enough to shift the creature a few centimeters—just enough for the attack to veer off to the side, narrowly missing Yahiko.

The demon, stunned, looked down at Mata. It stared at him with a mixture of disdain and disbelief: this insect had dared to make it fail.

Yahiko then felt a fiery heat explode through his entire body—a searing blaze fueled by his childhood friend's incredible courage.

"I won't let you down, Mata…" he murmured through clenched teeth.

"Yahiko! Now!" Mata screamed, his face twisted by effort and pain.The demon, mad with rage, tried to swat Mata away with a violent blow. But at that precise moment, a figure appeared—Maïwenn.

Her face bloodied, disfigured by her wounds, she gathered all the strength she had left and leapt forward, brandishing Milo's sword.With a heart-wrenching scream, she drove the blade straight into the demon's neck—the very spot she had weakened earlier.A final burst of energy exploded from within, tearing a beastly howl from the monster.

Maïwenn, clinging to her sword, trembling, kept the blade embedded despite the stream of blood pouring from her mouth.

"Finish it... now..." she cried to Yahiko, her voice ringing with fierce intensity, even in her final moments. Her already clouded eyes seemed to plead with him one last time.

The Yokaï, consumed by pain, then sank its claws into Maïwenn's neck. Her gaze emptied instantly, frozen in a final glint, before she collapsed—dead on the spot.And yet, even in death, her arms remained clenched, stubbornly refusing to let go of the sword.

"Yahiko! Hurry the hell up!" Mata screamed, his voice cracking with panic and despair.In a final surge, Yahiko mentally linked with his double. Into it, he poured all his will, all his despair, and all his hopes mingled together.The Shadow stabilized. Its counter plummeted sharply to 50%, as a deadly aura—cold as death—formed around its claws.

In a blinding flash, the Shadow unleashed a massive wave of energy—a perfect line that sliced through the air. It targeted the demon's neck directly.Yahiko leapt in the same motion, rushing behind the wave, followed closely by the double.The wave struck the demon's neck, already weakened by Maïwenn's final strike, and began to cut deep.

Seeing the opening, Yahiko screamed and brought his sword down with desperate strength, merging his attack with that of the wave. The blade sank even deeper—but the demon's thick neck resisted, cracking but not breaking.

Then, the demon's double emerged as well, and in one final, furious effort, it brought its fist down on Yahiko's sword—like a divine hammer.The impact was tremendous. Bones cracked.

With a final roar, the Yokaï's head was severed at last, hurled several meters away before crashing heavily into the snow.Its massive body toppled forward, fell to its knees, and collapsed with a dull thud.

Yahiko, panting, covered in blood and sweat, crashed into the snow, falling with all his weight after his desperate leap.He collapsed without grace, like a puppet whose strings had just been cut.

His blank stare remained fixed on the demon's headless body.

Had he really won?

He stayed motionless, breath short, watching for any sign. His fingers trembled against the frozen snow, while a metallic taste filled his mouth.

Then, slowly, a thin stream of black mist began to rise from the Yokaï's body, dissolving into the icy air.

They had survived.