Yahiko lunged.
His mind and focus were honed to their peak. Eyes wide open, unblinking, he had abandoned everything: hope, fear, anger.
His mind and body were guided by only one instinct — the most primal of all, the one that has driven every being to surpass itself since the dawn of time:Survive.His blade flashed, fast and precise. A direct thrust, the tip aimed straight at the monster's throat — Yahiko wanted to stab it, clean and clear.
But the blade met only air.
The Yokaï had just dodged to the right, fluid, elusive.
Yahiko reacted instantly. He cut his thrust short and, in the same motion, pivoted to follow up with a slicing strike aimed at the monster's upper body.
Once again, he struck nothing.
The little demon had already slipped behind him.Suddenly, a searing pain pierced through his shoulder blade.A claw had sunk into it — deep, relentless.The shock made him drop his weapon on the spot.A hoarse cry escaped him, strangled by pain.But he couldn't stop.His senses on high alert, he caught his blade mid-fall with his other hand and spun around, already winding up for another blow.
Facing the demon.
No hesitation. Yahiko struck, tracing a deadly arc through the frozen air.
But this time, it wasn't just any strike.
He put everything he had left into it. All his strength, all his will, all his rage.
Every nerve, every muscle, every fragment of his being screamed into the moment.
This time, he wasn't striking to wound.
He was striking to kill.
The Yokaï seemed caught off guard, unable to dodge the attack… or at least, that's what Yahiko thought for a moment.
Then, the monster locked eyes with him.
The steel blade struck its skin with a dull thud. Once again, a shockwave shot up Yahiko's arm to his shoulder. Nothing. Just like the first time. A useless, powerless strike.
No cut.Nothing.The Yokaï's eyes lit up with a mocking gleam — it was toying with him. Like a cat playing with a mouse.Still stunned, Yahiko didn't immediately grasp what was happening.The Yokaï, its throat still in contact with the blade, didn't move. No fear in its eyes, no twitch. Just that same mocking, cruel glint, as if it were savoring the moment.
Then, without warning, it struck again.A lightning-fast motion. A simple sweep.
Yahiko was knocked sideways, his balance shattered in an instant.His body was torn from the ground, hurled into the air — parallel to the snow, disarmed, vulnerable.That was when the demon truly struck.
It leapt in place, and both its hands came crashing down in a single, brutal blow to Yahiko's ribs, like an unrelenting hammer.A dull sound rang out. A crack — deep, visceral.
Yahiko was hurled to the ground with terrifying force, his body crashing into the snow like a lifeless ragdoll.A gush of blood erupted from his mouth, the pain overwhelming — raw, absolute, inhuman.He lay there, sprawled in the powdery snow, his warm blood staining the white landscape.
A few seconds passed.
An eye opened, trembling, clouded with tears and blood.The Yokaï… was gone.
Yahiko gasped, every breath igniting a sharp, burning pain in his shattered rib cage.He knew it. The end was near.And yet… his mind refused to let go.Without understanding why, his brain kicked into overdrive. In a flash of almost supernatural clarity, thoughts burst forth. Linked. Resounded.
The realization struck him, absolute and merciless: he couldn't win.The monster was too fast. Too strong. Too resilient.Every attack had been in vain. Every strike absorbed, as if he were hitting solid stone.Even the boreal bear had shown weaknesses, openings in its movements.But this creature…It danced. It laughed.It's toying with me.His body was shattered. His ribs, crushed. His muscles, aflame.He wouldn't survive another assault — he was sure of it.I'm too weak.
A sad smile slipped from his lips.And yet… maybe that was his only advantage.It doesn't take me seriously. It thinks it's already won.
What could he do?
His eyes were useless — the monster was far too fast to follow with his gaze.And his sense of smell was no help. The air reeked of blood — his own — and the Yokaï's foul stench.The ground, the trees, his clothes… everything was saturated. Soaked.
So what? What's left?
A shiver crawled up his spine, spreading to the nape of his neck.There's nothing left…He closed his eyes. Ready to give up.His breath slowed. His body screamed to stop. His mind began to slip away, slowly drifting… into something like a dream.Death, perhaps?
And then… something caught his attention.A strange sensation, faint, barely perceptible, emerged in his mind.He didn't pay it any attention at first, assuming it was just delirium.Too much pain. Too much chaos in his head.But it came again. Persistent. Different.
It wasn't a smell.It wasn't a sound.
Just… there.
Something indescribable, like a vibration in the air, a low pulse lurking in the shadows.
And then, he truly felt it.
In the midst of the silence, beyond the cold, the fear, the pain: a presence.Something circling him, slowly, at a distance… like energy in motion.Invisible. Immaterial.What is that…?
A yellow mass rippled in his mind, swirling slowly.He could see it moving, dancing all around him — despite his closed eyelids, despite the crushing fatigue.He could feel its path.
He had never experienced anything like this before.It was… like a pressure in the air, a subtle tremor that vibrated inside his skull.He didn't know how. Or why.But he could perceive the Yokaï.Its Essence.Its energy.
And yet, despite this revelation — despite the pain and the chaos — a part of his mind remained lucid.He needed to assess. To think. To react.To take stock of what strength he had left, meager as it was.
His curved blade — still gripped tightly in his hand.And… he had almost forgotten.The poison pouch.
The one he had taken from the carcass of the boreal bear.It was still there, intact, against his chest, hidden in the lining of his coat.A powerful poison.Enough to kill a monster.
Then he focused on his tormentor.Did it even have a weakness?
Inhuman speed. Impenetrable skin.He had already tried to injure it. With no result.He couldn't even cut through its flesh, not even with all his strength.
So how was he supposed to inject the poison?
Everyone has a weak spot.No matter their strength, their claws, their speed — there had to be one.Think! Think!
And suddenly, an idea struck him.Of course. Why hadn't he thought of it earlier?It was obvious.
Some parts of the body couldn't be reinforced, trained, or protected.The eyes.Exposed. Fragile. Perfect.
His heart pounded in his chest.He gathered his thoughts, took stock of his physical state.He had almost nothing left.Barely enough… for a single move.Not a combination.Not a duel.Just… a perfect instant.
He tried to summon what energy remained in him.It wasn't enough, of course.But it was all he had.
He knew it: he would most likely die — for good — right after this.But in the end… what did it matter?
Die like a weakling…Or die like a free man.Free to choose his end.
To counter its speed, Yahiko had to accomplish one crucial thing: force the demon to strike at the exact moment he had chosen, without the creature suspecting, not for a second, that it was walking into a trap.
That was the first step of his plan — and probably the easiest.The little demon, blinded by its own power, didn't even see Yahiko as a threat anymore. It believed him finished.
Yet Yahiko could still sense its presence.Lurking somewhere around the clearing, that vile aura circling slowly, like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike.
And then Yahiko understood:If he wanted to keep even the slightest chance —he had to choose the moment of the attack.He had to make it come to him.
There was only one way to do it: pretend to be dead.And honestly… he wasn't that far off.
He gathered what little he had left.Every shred of strength.Every fiber of torn muscle.Every fragment of will.
Then, slowly, gently, he rose.Wavering. Trembling. But standing.
Eyes closed, his curved blade still in hand, pointing toward the ground.He took a deep breath…And let out a moan of pain, not even faking it — with the holes in his side, broken ribs, and the hits he'd taken, the agony was more than real enough.
Then… he collapsed.Heavily. Lifeless.Like a puppet emptied of all life.
One second.Two.Five.
He felt it.The Yokaï was rushing toward him. Blinding speed.No sound.Just a pressure surging toward him, relentless.
Now.
In a burst of motion, Yahiko sprang up.But he didn't just rise.He jumped.The opposite way.Straight into the path of the charging demon.
A perfect collision. A perfect trajectory.The Yokaï, hurtling at full speed, had no time to stop. Not even to understand.Yahiko used its own velocity against it, absorbing the full brunt… to amplify the impact even more.
In one hand: the poison pouch.In the other: his curved blade.
In a flash, he slammed the pouch against the monster's left eye… and stabbed.
The blade tore through the pouch, sank into the eye with a sickening, wet squelch.Yahiko screamed.A cry of rage. Of pain. Of release.
Then he struck again.A second time.A third.Four.Five.Six…
He froze for a split second.
The eye burst.The demon was frozen in a silent scream, Yahiko looming above it like a vengeful shadow.
On the seventh strike, he placed his palm on the hilt and pushed with all his strength.The blade sank deep—straight into the brain.The Yokaï froze for a split second.Then it exploded into a violent convulsion.
Its body twisted at impossible angles, writhing as if trying to escape its own agony.It let out a scream that chilled the blood.Its claws lashed out in a reflexive death grip, trying to wrap around Yahiko in a final embrace...
But he pulled away at the last moment.He shoved the creature violently.The small being collapsed onto the ground, thrashing, screaming, clawing at its own face and the gaping hole where its eye used to be, its body shaking with inhuman spasms.
Yahiko fell to his knees.Then onto his side.He couldn't move anymore.
His gaze flickered, but he no longer blinked.A serene, almost peaceful smile stretched across his bloodstained lips.He had done it.
A blurry veil clouded his vision.Dark spots danced before his eyes.Yahiko panted, breath shallow. He couldn't feel his legs. Or his arms.Only the cold. And the pain.His lips were dry. His throat, on fire.
Am I… dying?
The silence was almost soothing.Almost.
Then… sounds.Strangely, Yahiko found himself annoyed by the noise breaking the sly calm of death.Too much noise. Too much life.Distant. Muffled. Like voices behind a wall.
Voices?Then footsteps. Slow. Cautious.The voices drew closer.
— …I hope we're not too late.— Look at this carnage… By the heavens…
A shadow approached.Someone crouched down. Yahiko felt a light pressure beneath his neck.He felt the cold begin to fade—not because he was getting better, but because living, human hands had just touched him.
A deep, reassuring voice:
— He's still alive. Incredible… How did this kid survive a Yokaï?
He wanted to answer. To move.But his body refused.
— Hang in there, kid. We're taking you home.— Wait, we have to stabilize him right away… He's lost way too much blood.
A wave of dizziness.A whirlwind.He felt himself being lifted.For a moment, he thought he was floating.
His body became light, distant…His thoughts unraveled.And the darkness gently wrapped around him.