blood doesn't hurt as mush as the truth

The clash echoed through the arena.

Metal screamed against metal as Mikado lunged forward, his strike sharp and furious. Shiki blocked it just in time, the impact rattling through his arms.

“You said you wouldn’t hold back,” Mikado snarled.

Shiki’s jaw tightened. “I’m not.”

But Mikado could tell.

Shiki was still pulling his blows.

That made everything worse.

Mikado attacked again—faster, harder. Each strike carried more than strength. It carried frustration. Doubt. Fear he refused to name.

“Fight me properly!” Mikado shouted. “Or is this another thing you’re hiding?!”

Shiki stumbled back, boots scraping against the ground. His eyes darkened, something wild flickering beneath the surface.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking,” Shiki said.

“Then make me understand!” Mikado roared.

Their weapons locked. They were close now—too close. Mikado could see the strain in Shiki’s face, the way his hands trembled not from weakness, but restraint.

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Shiki said quietly.

Those words struck deeper than any blade.

“Liar,” Mikado whispered, shoving him back. “You’ve been hurting me this whole time.”

Shiki froze.

“…What?”

Mikado didn’t know why his chest burned. He didn’t know why his vision blurred. He only knew that every secret, every silent glance, every time Shiki stepped in front of danger—it all twisted painfully inside him.

“You decide everything for me,” Mikado said, voice shaking. “You don’t trust me to choose. You don’t trust me to stand beside you.”

“That’s not it,” Shiki said urgently. “I trust you more than anyone.”

“Then why keep me in the dark?!”

The question shattered the air.

Shiki’s control snapped.

A surge of power erupted around him—dark, heavy, unmistakable. The ground cracked beneath his feet as Oni energy surged violently outward.

Mikado staggered back, eyes wide.

“So it’s true,” he breathed. “You really are—”

“I KNOW!” Shiki shouted.

The pain in his voice stopped Mikado cold.

“I know what I am,” Shiki continued, fists clenched. “I know what they’d do if they found out. And I know what you’d lose if you stayed close to me.”

Mikado’s heart pounded.

“I don’t care,” he said without thinking.

The words slipped out—raw, unguarded.

Shiki stared at him.

“…You should,” Shiki said hoarsely. “That’s why I pushed you away.”

Silence fell.

The power around Shiki wavered.

Mikado stepped forward slowly, weapon lowered just a fraction. His hands were shaking—not with fear, but with something far more frightening.

“Every time you protected me,” Mikado said softly, “it felt like you were saying goodbye.”

Shiki’s breath hitched.

“I couldn’t let you get hurt,” he whispered.

“Then what about you?” Mikado demanded. “What about your life?”

Shiki didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

Mikado’s chest tightened painfully. He raised his weapon again—not to strike, but because he didn’t know what else to do with the storm inside him.

“If you think disappearing will save me,” Mikado said, voice breaking, “then you don’t know me at all.”

For the first time, Shiki looked truly afraid.

Not of the fight.

Of losing him.

Their weapons clashed one final time—then slipped from their hands, falling uselessly to the ground.

Both stood there, breathing hard, wounded in ways no battle could see.

This fight had no winner.

Only truths spilled like blood.

And as Mikado looked at Shiki—hurt, exhausted, still standing—one terrifying realization began to form in his heart:

This pain wasn’t anger.

It was fear.

Fear of losing the person who mattered most.

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