---
A Battlefield of Ash
The air was thick with heat. The ruins of Kurokawa, once standing tall, had become a furnace of collapsed buildings and molten rubble. Smoke coiled upward in slow, writhing tendrils, merging with the dark sky above.
Hiroshi Tanaka stood at the center of the inferno. His katana, Blazing Ronin, was already drawn, but its blade gleamed not with fire—but resistance to it.
Across from him, Ayaka Fujiwara smiled.
Her Hellfire Waltz was in full bloom.
The flames around her did not flicker chaotically—they moved in perfect rhythm. Every wave of heat, every ember, every explosion flowed like a choreographed dance.
Her Stand wasn't just about fire.
It was about control.
"Are you still standing, Ronin?" Ayaka asked, her voice velvet-smooth, unfazed by the destruction around them.
Hiroshi exhaled slowly. Even breathing was dangerous here. The air had become too hot. Too thin.
She was controlling the oxygen levels, starving him.
A battle of endurance.
And she had the advantage.
---
The Phantom Waltz Begins
Hiroshi moved first.
A single step.
Then—he vanished.
Ayaka's flames rushed forward, responding instinctively to his movement.
But Hiroshi wasn't aiming for her.
He cut through the flames themselves.
SHING!
The fire in front of him split apart.
Impossible.
Ayaka's eyes widened for a fraction of a second.
Then—she smiled.
"A swordsman who cuts fire…? Impressive."
She snapped her fingers.
The battlefield changed.
The flames collapsed inward.
For a moment, they seemed to vanish—only to reform in a new shape.
A massive, burning labyrinth.
---
Flames That Trap
Hiroshi stopped moving.
Ayaka had sealed the space around him. Walls of living fire rose in every direction.
Not just flames—heat distortions.
The paths twisted like mirages, shifting the moment he tried to focus on them.
One second, an opening existed. The next—it was gone.
Hiroshi narrowed his eyes.
Ayaka wasn't playing fair.
This wasn't a normal fight. This was psychological warfare.
And worse—
She was changing his perception of space.
---
A Duel of Swords and Shadows
Hiroshi closed his eyes.
Took a breath.
Listened.
The sound of flames. The subtle shift of heat.
And then—
He struck.
His katana lashed out in precise, calculated slashes.
Not toward Ayaka—but at the distortions.
Each strike cut through the false paths, revealing the real ones underneath.
Ayaka's eyes widened.
Hiroshi wasn't fooled.
He rushed forward.
This time—directly at her.
---
The Crimson Mirage
Ayaka's stance shifted.
She raised her hand—and the flames took shape.
Not just a wall of fire.
A mirror of herself.
An exact, blazing duplicate—moving in perfect synchronization.
Now there were two Ayakas.
Hiroshi hesitated for only an instant.
That was all she needed.
BOOM.
The firestorm erupted beneath him.
Hiroshi was thrown backward, his body engulfed in flames.
His coat burned away. His sword nearly slipped from his fingers.
Ayaka laughed softly.
"You're good, Ronin."
Her mirrored self tilted its head in the exact same way.
"But I'm better."
---
The Puppeteer's Game
Meanwhile—
Daisuke Mori couldn't move.
Not because he was injured.
Because his body was no longer his own.
Strings.
Invisible, yet unbreakable.
Wrapped around his limbs, his torso, his throat—guiding him like a marionette.
Reika Hoshino stood in the distance, her Strings of Fate shimmering faintly in the dim light.
Her expression was calm. Playful.
She lifted a delicate hand.
And Daisuke's body moved.
Not by choice.
By force.
---
A Storm Without Control
Daisuke's Gale Phantom surged to life.
His Stand's power—uncontrollable speed—was now in Reika's hands.
He became a blur.
Wind howled around him as he was forced into motion.
Not toward Reika.
Toward—
Akira.
---
Echo Chamber vs. The Phantom Wind
Akira barely had time to react before Daisuke was upon him.
A phantom of pure motion.
Too fast.
Too precise.
Each strike was aimed to kill.
Akira ducked just in time as a wind-powered kick ripped through the concrete behind him.
Think.
Reika's Stand controlled through vibrations.
Sound.
Which meant—
There was a way to counter it.
But it was risky.
---
The Counterplay
Daisuke lunged.
Akira activated Echo Chamber.
A shockwave of pure sound exploded outward.
The air rippled.
The strings attached to Daisuke shuddered.
For a brief moment—they loosened.
Just enough.
Akira moved.
He twisted to the side—and struck Daisuke's shoulder with a sonic pulse.
Daisuke collapsed.
Reika's smile vanished.
The fight had changed.
---
A New Challenger Enters
Hiroshi was at his limit.
His breathing was labored. His vision blurred.
Ayaka and her fiery duplicate walked toward him.
Their steps synchronized. A slow, deliberate waltz.
"This is over," she murmured.
She raised her hand—a final explosion forming in her palm.
But then—
The flames dimmed.
A new sound filled the battlefield.
A deep, resonating pulse.
Ayaka turned—
Just in time to see Akira standing tall.
His Echo Chamber was glowing.
The air itself shook with sound.
And then—
The flames began to break apart.
---