CHAPTER 3: BLOOD ON ICE

Just as Douma began to pull Shinobu's life into his own, her vision dimming, another presence appeared in the chamber.

Kanao Tsuyuri stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with horror, hands trembling around the hilt of her sword.

"Shinobu…" she whispered.

Douma chuckled, icy mist dancing from his mouth.

"Oh? Another one? You've come to die too?" he mocked, raising his free hand as his Blood Demon Art began to manifest—blades of crystal ice spiraled around him, aiming directly for Kanao.

But she didn't move.

She knew. Rushing forward now would only get her killed. She was fast—but not fast enough to save Shinobu on her own. She grit her teeth, desperately searching for an opening—but none came.

Douma laughed again. "Such loyalty. Such futility."

BOOM!

Suddenly, a thunderous explosion rocked the chamber as the terrace wall shattered into pieces. Ice and debris flew in every direction as a wild figure leapt through the mist.

Inosuke Hashibira.

"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HER!" he roared, twisting mid-air and slicing across Douma's chest with Beast Breathing, Fifth Fang: Crazy Cutting.

Shinobu collapsed into Inosuke's arms, barely conscious. Inosuke set her down and stepped in front of Kanao.

Now it was Inosuke and Kanao, side by side, blades drawn, breathing heavily—ready to face Upper Moon Two.

Douma staggered, blood dripping down his chest, still smiling, still amused. He looked at Inosuke closely… then recognition dawned.

"Ah… you. The boar-headed brat."

He narrowed his eyes, voice thick with twisted nostalgia.

"I remember now. Your mother—what was her name? Kotoha, yes? She was… delicious."

A chill swept the room.

Inosuke froze.

The words echoed in his mind.

"Your mother—delicious."

Then, a voice.

"Inosuke… my precious boy…"

A Spirit Bond had awakened.

Kotoha's gentle voice called to him across the void.

Inosuke's fists clenched. His whole body trembled—not with fear, but fury.

"IF HELL DOESN'T EXIST—" he bellowed, his voice booming, "—THEN I'LL MAKE ONE JUST FOR YOU!!"

His movements were savage but sharp.

Inosuke and Kanao launched themselves at Douma in unison—Inosuke with primal, explosive attacks, and Kanao with surgical precision.

Douma's mask of amusement began to crack.

He was being overwhelmed.

Inosuke's mask was shattered mid-battle, revealing his furious, determined eyes. But he kept fighting, undeterred.

Finally, Kanao called out—"NOW, SHINOBU!!"

Shinobu, bloodied and weakened, rose with her final ounce of strength. Her eyes burned with purpose.

She leapt into the air, her katana glinting violet.

"Insect Breathing, Final Form—Dance of the Centipede: Hundred-Legged Zigzag!!"

Her blade struck true.

DOUMA'S NECK WAS SEVERED.

Time stood still.

Douma staggered, eyes wide. The ice around the room began to melt.

And then—

A memory.

A little boy, alone in a gilded temple.

Voices chanting praises at him, calling him a god.

No warmth. No joy. Just empty words.

Even in death… he felt nothing.

"…Is this… what it means… to be loved?"

Douma collapsed into a swirl of blood and snowflakes.

And the room fell silent.