Kenjaku turned the orb over once, then cracked his jaw open — too wide, wrong for a human mouth — and swallowed it whole.
"Maximum: Uzumaki." He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, eyes finding Yuji again. "Any spirit semi-grade one or above, I can just... take. Convenient, isn't it."
Above the crater, Momo Nishimiya's lantern flared once.
Kamo's arrows came first, blood slicked down every shaft. Kenjaku slipped through them like they were nothing, and Miwa was already behind him before he'd finished the thought.
Simple Domain. The strike locked in before she'd even drawn. Batto — one swing, everything she had behind it.
The blade never reached his neck. Kenjaku caught it bare-handed and snapped it like a green branch.
Behind him, a mass of cursed spirits churned into being, compressed into one spiraling, ultra-dense vortex. Uzumaki. He turned it on Miwa without a flicker of hesitation.
The blast tore the crater floor apart, throwing up a wall of dust. When it cleared, Miwa was still standing — barely — because
because Kasumi Miwa didn't take the hit.
The ridge where Ren had been standing was empty. A spiderweb of shattered asphalt was the only proof he'd been there.
He slammed into Miwa a millisecond before the beam vaporized the ground, wrapping an arm around her waist. His momentum carried them straight backward through the air, away from the blinding heat.
Ren spun to take the landing on his back.
But someone else had already rushed blindly into the dust cloud from the opposite direction to save her student. Instead of crushed concrete, Ren hit something significantly softer.
They hit the ground in a tangled heap, skidding across the ash and dirt before grinding to a halt. Miwa spilled safely to the side, coughing on the dust.
Ren groaned, his ears ringing from the residual roar of the Uzumaki blast. He blinked, shaking the debris from his hair, and realized his hands were planted on either side of someone's head. His hips were pressed flush against theirs, pinning them entirely to the ground.
He looked down.
Utahime Iori stared back up at him. The Kyoto instructor's eyes were wide as saucers, the breath knocked completely out of her lungs. Her traditional shrine maiden robes were bunched up under his heavy, ash-smeared jacket, and his chest was pressed directly against hers.
For two full seconds, the apocalyptic warzone around them simply ceased to exist.
Ren didn't move. He just blinked down at the furious, stunned teacher.
"Uh," Ren said, his voice entirely too casual. "Sorry, Sensei. Didn't see you there."
Utahime's face went from pale, to pink, to a violent, radioactive shade of red in record time.
"Get," Utahime choked out, her voice pitching up an entire octave as her hands scrambled against his chest. "Off me!"
She shoved him hard. Ren rolled away without a fight, easily popping back up to his feet and dusting the dirt off his knees.
"Miwa!" Utahime scrambled up, aggressively smoothing down her rumpled robes and completely ignoring Ren to check on her student. "Are you hurt?!"
Miwa just shook her head, staring blankly at the massive, smoking trench in the rubble where she had been standing three seconds ago. "I'm... I'm okay."
Down in the center of the crater, Kenjaku tilted his head. The dust settled around him, leaving him completely untouched. His serene smile didn't waver.
"Excellent speed," Kenjaku mused, his dark eyes drifting past the Kyoto sorcerers to lock squarely onto Ren.
Before Kenjaku could say anything else, a heavy, wet thud echoed across the pulverized ground.
A new figure landed in the center of the crater.
Choso.
The Death Painting Womb didn't look at Yuji. He didn't look at Ren or the Kyoto squad. He stared dead at Kenjaku. His eyes were completely bloodshot, wide, and trembling with an unadulterated rage. Blood dripped steadily from his fingertips.
"Noritoshi Kamo!" Choso shrieked, his voice tearing at the seams as he pointed a trembling finger at the ancient sorcerer. "You're the one who toyed with my mother!"
Up on the ridge, Kamo's bowstring went slack.
"That's not—" He stopped, staring down at the scar on the monk's forehead like he could will it into being a coincidence. "That's a bedtime story. My grandfather told it to scare us."
Panda glanced between him and the crater. "Somebody want to fill me in?"
Utahime didn't answer either of them. The color had already dropped out of her face, her hand closing around the fabric of her robes.
"A body-hopping technique," she said, voice thin. "A hundred and fifty years, and he's still—"
"Utahime-sensei?" Momo's broom dipped an inch. "Who is he talking about?"
"Not the boy up there." Utahime's eyes stayed locked on the scar. "The one the boy's whole clan was named to remember."
Kenjaku's smile didn't move. "Noritoshi Kamo. Suguru Geto." He spread his hands. "Names. Call me whatever's convenient."
Choso took a step forward. Pulverized concrete crunched under his boot.
"You made me raise my hands against my own family." His voice shook, the compressed blood between his palms shrieking louder with every word. "I'm the eldest. And you used me to try and kill my little brother Yuji Itadoriii!."
Kenjaku watched him come. "You're acting on feeling, Choso. It's pathetic."
Choso didn't stop walking.
The ash to Kenjaku's left swirled and split. Uraume stepped into his path, robes untouched by any of it.
"Stand down, third-rate." her eyes stayed flat, bored almost. "Don't keep me waiting."
Choso didn't blink. He thrust both hands forward. "Piercing Blood!"
The beam tore through the ash toward Kenjaku's skull.
Uraume's hand came up half a step too slow.
The impact cracked like a cannon going off, dirt blown out in a ring around them — and the beam didn't stop. It bored straight through, punching a smoking hole clean through Uraume's palm, tearing flesh and bone before it hissed past Kenjaku's ear and buried itself in the ground behind him.
Uraume stared at the hole in her hand like it belonged to someone else.