The shrine trembled as two Hiragis faced one another in the veil of night and prayer.
One cloaked in Void, forged through trauma, blood, and survival.
The other? Clean. Perfect. Whole.
The Hiragi who never fell—but also never fought.
"You're everything I lost," Hiragi said.
"And you're everything I refused to become," his counterpart replied, voice calm, unreadable.
They lunged.
Void met Purity in a clash that shattered the fog like glass.
Black fire curled around Hiragi's blade. His double's katana shimmered like morning light, humming with the spirit of unfulfilled dreams.
Each strike was more than a blow.
Each movement, a confrontation.
Of guilt,
Of rage,
Of the desperate need to belong.
"You killed to survive," said the Ideal Hiragi.
"You turned your friends into weapons."
"You embraced the Void."
"Because I had to," Hiragi spat.
"Because no one else would fight the darkness."
Ishigami and Airi watched from outside the ring of masks, unable to enter.
"This isn't just a duel," Ishigami muttered.
"It's a ritual of identity. If he loses…"
"The real Hiragi dies," Airi finished.
Blades clashed again.
The Ideal Hiragi drove his sword into Hiragi's shoulder.
"You don't deserve their love. Not Airi's, not Ishigami's. You stained everything."
Hiragi fell to one knee, breath ragged.
"Maybe," he whispered. "But they didn't love me because I was perfect."
He raised his head, eyes burning with Voidfire.
"They loved me because I was real."
A scream echoed through the shrine.
Not Hiragi's.
But the mirror self, as Void tendrils erupted from Hiragi's wound—pulling his double into a storm of unraveling identities.
"I accept who I am," Hiragi growled.
"Scars and all."
He plunged his blade forward.
Straight through the chest of the ideal version.
Light shattered.
Blood fell.
And the mirror cracked fully.
When the shrine fell silent again, only one Hiragi stood.
His breathing was heavy. His left arm trembled. But he was whole.
Airi ran to him. "Are you—"
"I'm still me," Hiragi said. "That's enough."
Ishigami stepped forward, gaze steady.
"You passed the rite of the Self. The Hollow God won't be able to puppeteer you now."
"Good," Hiragi muttered. "Because I plan to end this."
From the darkness beyond the shrine, a slow, thunderous clap echoed.
"Touching," said a voice both ancient and mockingly young.
"But do you really think defeating your own reflection means you're ready to face me?"
The Thousand-Faced Monk stepped into view—his face shifting between children, women, men, animals, and blank masks with every breath.
"Let's see if your little Void heart can survive a real god."
End of Chapter 57