Kuro's compound eyes cracked open. His voice came out weak, but still lazy.
"…You're heavy."
Himiko froze. Then her expression turned cold.
"You were out for two minutes," she said, voice icy, "and that's the first thing you say?"
Kuro gave a weak, buzzing laugh.
"Couldn't resist. You looked worried."
Himiko's glare sharpened. She stood with perfect posture, staring down at him like he was dirt.
"You're lucky I still need you. Otherwise I'd leave you here."
Kuro's wings fluttered once, pathetically.
"Noted."
Deep underground, in a damp stone chamber that smelled of blood and mildew, Kurosawa lay bandaged on a slab. A small girl knelt beside him, brush trembling over parchment.
"Write this exactly as I say," he rasped. "To the Hollow Blade…"
He dictated slowly, voice low and venomous. When he finished, the girl rolled the scroll with shaking hands and hurried out.
Kurosawa stared at the ceiling, smiling through the pain.
"This isn't over, porcelain queen."
Later he muttered to himself, half-delirious.
"That doll actually hurt me. That's new. I want to break that cold little face… piece by piece. Next time that domain won't catch me off guard. I'll learn how to counter it."
He closed his eyes, still grinning.
"This is going to be fun."
Himiko bent down, slid her arms under Kuro, and lifted him without effort. He buzzed in protest.
"Be silent," she said flatly. "A queen doesn't need commentary from her injured general."
She carried him inside and set him down beside the throne.
"Rest. Your swarm will bring you food."
Kuro groaned. "This is humiliating."
Himiko ignored him and sat back on her throne, crown spinning lazily above her.
In the treeline, four clan scouts watched in stunned silence.
Gojo no Kenji lowered his telescope, hands still shaking.
"That was a real Black Flash. One hit and he nearly erased the Fly King… yet she still won."
Kamo no Jiro looked pale. "She used an incomplete domain and it actually worked. That thing was supposed to be stronger than both of them."
The Zenin scout muttered, "She's not just special grade anymore. She's got a general now."
The Abe onmyoji clutched his talismans. "We still have three days before we can report. Mission first. We stay and watch."
Two days later the Sando Estate looked almost livable. Kuro's swarm had built crude wooden sleds that let them haul heavy stone twice as fast. The Fly King himself was out there directing everything, covered in dust, even helping lift beams despite the ugly hole still punched through his chest. Every time he pushed too hard, dark green blood leaked down his torso.
Himiko watched from her throne.
"You're reopening that wound," she said coolly.
"It's fine," Kuro grunted, pressing a hand to the gash.
"A scratch that nearly killed you," she replied, one eyebrow raised. "Don't lie to your queen, General."
He grumbled but eased up.
The fly-heads had stopped scattering every time she moved. A few even perched on her throne like weird little gargoyles.
Later that afternoon Kuro rigged up a simple crane system with ropes and sleds. The swarm worked in sync, pulling stone blocks into place with surprising coordination.
Himiko actually looked impressed. "Not bad. You're useful for something besides eating people and complaining."
"High praise from someone who's done nothing but sit there all day," Kuro shot back.
"A queen doesn't do manual labor," she said, smirking. "That's what generals are for."
She tilted her head. "Though you do look less like a doughnut and more like a poorly glazed pastry now."
Kuro dropped the rope he was holding. The stone block crashed down, sending fly-heads into a panic.
"I'm going to throw you off this mountain."
"You can try," she said, leaning back on her throne. "But then who builds my palace?"
Kuro let out a long, defeated buzz. "I miss my temple."
One of the fly-heads perched on Himiko's throne gave a little supportive buzz.
Kuro stared at it. "Et tu, insect?"
Himiko laughed — soft, elegant, and genuinely amused. The sound surprised even her.
Kuro paused, caught off guard by how nice it sounded. He shook it off and went back to work, muttering, "Next she'll make me wear a little crown."
She overheard. "That's not a bad idea."
"DON'T YOU DARE."
The Gojo clan training yard was quiet except for the faint hum of cursed energy.
Gojo no Michizane stood with his arms crossed, watching his ten-year-old son. Even at that age, Haruto already moved like someone who didn't belong in this world.
"Again," Michizane said. "Don't think — just do it."
Haruto raised his hand. The air in front of him warped slightly. Limitless flickered on.
Michizane stepped forward and threw a casual punch. The moment his fist met the invisible wall, it slowed like it was pushing through thick syrup. Blue sparks flickered at the point of contact.
"Not bad," his father said, still walking forward slowly. "But you're wasting cursed energy. You're trying to stop me completely. Let the technique do the work. Neutralise the space, don't fight it."
Haruto adjusted his stance. The resistance around his father's fist became smoother. The punch finally stopped just inches from the boy's face.
Michizane grinned. "Better. Your Six Eyes are already reading the flow better than I ever could at your age. Keep that up and you'll be untouchable before fifteen."
Haruto lowered his hand, the Limitless fading. He looked up, six eyes still glowing faintly.
"Father… about that Porcelain Onryo everyone's talking about. The one who destroyed two clans. Do you think my Six Eyes would be able to see through whatever technique she uses?"
Michizane's expression grew more serious. He placed a hand on his son's white hair and ruffled it gently.
"We don't know much about her yet. Only that her power feels… wrong somehow. But that's exactly why you're out here. The stronger those eyes of yours get, the better chance we have."
He took a step back, fists up again, the playful tone gone.
"Alright, we're done playing around. Activate it again — and this time explain it to me out loud while you hold it. Don't just use the technique. Teach it."
Haruto's six eyes narrowed in focus. The air between them warped harder as Limitless snapped back on.
"The core of Limitless is manipulating infinite space," the boy said, voice steady even though his brow was already sweating. "At the smallest level I'm forcing the space between me and whatever's coming at me to stretch toward infinity. The distance between two points turns into an endless series of values that never actually hit zero."
Michizane threw a faster punch. The fist slowed dramatically, but he kept pushing forward like he was wading through deep water.
Haruto continued, breathing harder now. "Right now I'm holding the space in a neutral state. I'm not stopping movement — I'm slowing the perception of distance itself. It's like an asymptotic curve. The closer you get, the slower it feels. The rate follows a one-over-x-squared decay. I'm keeping the dilation at roughly point-zero-zero-zero-three metres per second of perceived movement. If I drop below that the technique collapses and you hit me. If I push it too hard I burn through cursed energy way too fast."
"Numbers," Michizane demanded, still advancing.
"The cost is tied directly to how sharply I force the convergence. The Six Eyes let me see the exact cursed energy needed for every decimal point. Right now I'm using forty-seven units per second to hold this. If I tweak the decay rate by even zero-point-zero-two I can drop it to thirty-nine without losing any of the effect."
Michizane finally stopped, standing just inches from his son. He looked genuinely proud.
"That's the real gift of the Six Eyes — not just seeing cursed energy, but understanding it like it's mathematics. Most people treat Limitless like a wall. You're already treating it like an equation."
He put a hand on Haruto's shoulder.
"Keep explaining it like this every single time you train. Teaching it forces you to spot the holes in your own understanding. That's how you truly master it."
Haruto let the technique drop. He was breathing harder, but his eyes still glowed with quiet determination.
"Understood, Father."
Michizane gave his son's shoulder one last squeeze.
"Keep training. The stronger those Six Eyes become, the safer we all are."