*In this world there are three types of people onis, momotaros and normal people. Onis has different powers using their blood and momotaros also have different powers using their black bacteria in they're bodies and normal peoples are normal with no Powers*

Mikado Momokeda had fought Oni his entire life.

Blood, screams, and chaos were familiar to him—almost comforting.

But the strange tightness in his chest whenever Shiki Ichinose stood nearby?

That was new.

Shiki leaned against the broken wall of the training ground, wiping blood from his cheek as if it meant nothing. His expression was calm, unreadable—too calm for someone who had nearly been struck down moments ago.

“You’re hurt,” Mikado said sharply.

Shiki glanced at him, then looked away. “It’s nothing.”

That answer irritated Mikado more than it should have.

“You always say that,” Mikado snapped. “You think bleeding makes you strong or something?”

Shiki didn’t reply. He simply turned his back and began walking away.

Mikado clenched his fists.

He hated that.

The silence.

The distance.

The way Shiki always seemed close… yet impossibly far.

The mission had gone wrong earlier than expected. An Oni ambush—messy, fast, and dangerous. Mikado had charged ahead without thinking, blade flashing in instinctive fury.

And Shiki had followed.

Always followed.

When Mikado had stumbled, it was Shiki who pushed him aside.

When the Oni lunged, Shiki took the hit meant for him.

That memory burned now.

“Why do you keep doing that?” Mikado asked quietly.

Shiki paused.

“…Doing what?”

“Protecting me,” Mikado said. “You don’t hesitate. Not even once.”

For a second—just a second—Shiki’s hand tightened around his weapon.

“Someone has to,” he replied.

The answer was simple. Too simple.

Mikado watched Shiki walk away, a feeling he couldn’t name twisting deep inside him.

Later that night, the base was unusually silent.

Mikado couldn’t sleep.

He wandered through the corridors, thoughts tangled, when he heard voices.

Low. Urgent.

He stopped.

“…you shouldn’t be here,” Shiki’s voice said.

Mikado’s heart skipped.

Another voice replied—one he didn’t recognize.

“You’re running out of time, Ichinose. If they find out what you really are—”

Mikado’s breath caught.

What you really are?

Shiki interrupted sharply. “I said I’d handle it.”

“By hiding?” the stranger scoffed. “That Oni blood of yours won’t stay quiet forever.”

Oni… blood?

Mikado’s vision blurred.

Shiki stepped closer to the stranger, voice low and dangerous. “If you value your life, leave. Now.”

Footsteps retreated. Silence followed.

Mikado pressed himself against the wall, heart pounding so loudly he was sure Shiki could hear it.

Oni blood…?

That couldn’t be right.

Shiki Ichinose—quiet, distant, protective Shiki—was hiding something.

Something dangerous.

Something that suddenly explained too much.

The next day, Mikado couldn’t bring himself to look at Shiki.

Every glance felt heavy. Every memory twisted into doubt.

Was Shiki protecting him…

or using him?

“Momokeda.”

Shiki’s voice pulled him back to reality.

“What?” Mikado replied coldly.

Shiki frowned slightly. “Did I do something?”

The question almost broke him.

Mikado laughed bitterly. “You tell me.”

Shiki stared, confused—and for the first time, uncertain.

“…I don’t understand.”

“Then maybe you never wanted me to,” Mikado said, turning away.

Behind him, Shiki stood frozen.

That night, Mikado stared at his reflection.

Anger burned beneath his skin.

Betrayal hurt worse than any wound.

And yet…

Why did the thought of Shiki being in danger make his chest ache?

Get a grip, Mikado told himself. He’s hiding the truth.

But deep down, a quieter voice whispered something far more terrifying.

What if you just don’t want to lose him?

Mikado squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn’t know it yet—but that doubt would soon explode into violence.

And the person standing across from his blade…

Would be the one he cared about most.

The silence between them was unbearable.

Mikado could feel it with every step he took through the base—heavy, suffocating, like blood-soaked air after a battle. Shiki Ichinose walked a few steps ahead of him, posture straight, expression calm as ever.

Too calm.

How long have you been lying to us?

The thought burned hotter than Mikado wanted to admit.

“Focus,” their instructor barked. “This isn’t a walk in the park.”

They were sent on patrol together.

Of course they were.

Mikado tightened his grip on his weapon. Normally, he’d feel relief knowing Shiki was beside him. Shiki was precise, fast, reliable—someone Mikado trusted with his life.

Trusted.

That word felt wrong now.

The forest was quiet. Unnaturally so.

Shiki stopped suddenly and raised a hand. “Something’s off.”

Mikado noticed it too—the way Shiki’s senses sharpened, the way his eyes darkened slightly, almost glowing in the shadows.

Oni blood.

Mikado’s chest twisted.

“Since when do you play leader?” Mikado asked coldly.

Shiki turned, clearly startled. “What?”

“You heard me,” Mikado said. “You don’t usually give orders.”

“I’m not ordering you,” Shiki replied, frowning. “I’m just being careful.”

Careful.

Or hiding something.

Mikado scoffed. “Funny. You never seemed that careful before.”

Shiki stared at him, confusion slowly turning into hurt. “…Did I do something wrong?”

The question hit harder than Mikado expected.

For a split second, he almost told him everything.

Almost asked about the conversation.

Almost asked about the blood.

Instead, anger spoke first.

“You’re good at pretending,” Mikado said. “I’ll give you that.”

Shiki went still.

“Pretending?” he echoed.

“Don’t act like you don’t know,” Mikado snapped, stepping closer. “All those times you ‘protected’ me—were you just making sure I didn’t find out the truth?”

Shiki’s eyes widened.

“…What truth?”

That was it.

That was the moment Mikado realized something terrifying.

Shiki wasn’t going to confess.

A sudden roar shattered the tension.

An Oni burst from the trees, massive and furious.

“Move!” Shiki shouted.

Instinct took over. They fought together—too perfectly, like before. Shiki blocked attacks meant for Mikado, his movements sharp and almost reckless.

Too reckless.

“Stop covering for me!” Mikado yelled.

“What are you talking about?!” Shiki shouted back.

The Oni lunged.

Shiki pushed Mikado aside again—and took the blow.

Blood splattered across the ground.

Mikado froze.

“Shiki!”

Shiki staggered but stayed standing, eyes burning with something dark and powerful. For a brief moment, the air around him twisted—energy pulsing, wild and dangerous.

Oni power.

The Oni retreated, sensing something it shouldn’t have awakened.

Silence fell.

Shiki turned away quickly, breathing hard. “You’re not hurt. Good.”

That was all he said.

That was all he ever said.

Later, as Shiki treated his wound alone, Mikado watched from a distance.

Anger churned with guilt.

Why does he keep protecting me?

Why does it hurt so much to watch him bleed?

This wasn’t just about betrayal anymore.

This was fear.

Fear of the truth.

Fear of what Shiki was.

Fear of what Mikado himself was starting to feel.

Shiki glanced up and met Mikado’s eyes.

For a moment, neither spoke.

“I’m not your enemy,” Shiki said quietly.

Mikado’s throat tightened.

“…Then stop acting like you’re hiding something,” he replied.

Shiki looked away.

“I can’t,” he said.

That answer shattered whatever fragile restraint Mikado had left.

As Mikado turned and walked away, one thought echoed relentlessly in his mind:

If he won’t tell me the truth…

then I’ll force it out of him.

And somewhere deep in his chest, beneath all the anger and confusion, another realization trembled—soft, unwanted, and terrifying.

The thought of losing Shiki hurt far more

than the thought of fighting him.

Mikado avoided Shiki for two days.

Two days of sleepless nights.

Two days of clenched fists.

Two days of pretending his chest didn’t ache every time he heard Shiki’s voice in the distance.

But fate didn’t care about avoidance.

“Momokeda. Ichinose. Training arena. Now.”

The command echoed like a death sentence.

Mikado’s heart pounded as he stepped into the arena. Dust floated in the air, the wide space eerily empty—no spectators, no teammates. Just them.

Shiki was already there.

Standing calmly. Waiting.

That alone made Mikado furious.

“…So,” Mikado said coldly, breaking the silence. “You’re not running away this time.”

Shiki turned, eyes narrowing slightly. “I wasn’t running.”

“Really?” Mikado laughed bitterly. “Because that’s all you ever do. Dodge questions. Hide things. Pretend everything’s fine.”

Shiki clenched his jaw. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain it!” Mikado snapped, stepping forward. “Explain the secret meetings. Explain the Oni power. Explain why you keep throwing yourself in front of my blade like your life doesn’t matter!”

Silence.

Heavy. Crushing.

Shiki finally spoke, voice low. “I never said my life didn’t matter.”

“Then why act like it?” Mikado shouted.

Shiki’s eyes flickered—pain, anger, something deeper.

“Because if I don’t,” Shiki said quietly, “someone else will get hurt.”

Mikado froze.

“…You mean me?”

Shiki didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Something inside Mikado cracked.

“So that’s it,” he whispered. “You see me as weak.”

Shiki’s head snapped up. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you mean!” Mikado yelled. “You decide everything on your own. You don’t trust me. You never did.”

“That’s not true,” Shiki said sharply.

“Then why won’t you tell me the truth?!”

The words echoed across the arena.

Shiki’s fists trembled at his sides.

“…Because if you knew,” he said, voice strained, “you’d look at me like a monster.”

Mikado’s breath caught.

For a moment—just a moment—he saw it.

Fear.

Not guilt.

Not arrogance.

Fear.

But anger drowned it out.

“Too late,” Mikado said, drawing his weapon. “You already are one.”

The words landed like a blade to the chest.

Shiki went still.

Slowly, painfully, he raised his own weapon.

“If that’s what you believe,” Shiki said, eyes darkening, “then prove it.”

Energy crackled between them.

Oni blood stirred.

Momotaro pride flared.

Neither moved.

Neither breathed.

This wasn’t training anymore.

This was a challenge.

This was heartbreak sharpened into steel.

Mikado took a stance, hands shaking—not from fear, but from something far worse.

“Don’t hold back,” he said. “I won’t.”

Shiki’s voice was barely a whisper.

“…I never wanted to fight you.”

Mikado swallowed hard.

“Then why does it feel like this is the only way left?”

Their weapons clashed.

The sound rang through the arena like a scream.

And as steel met steel, one truth burned brighter than any power either of them possessed:

This fight wouldn’t just draw blood.

It would shatter whatever was left between them.