The Crystal's Whisper and The Wind's Embrace

Chapter 71: Fragments of Light

The walls of the Infinity Castle pulsed like a dying heart, each shudder rattling through the bones of those still standing. Cracks split the floor wider, jagged fissures echoing the tremors of their fight. The world twisted under the weight of Kokushibo's monstrous form—his limbs grotesquely lengthened, his blade gnashing like a beast of bone and steel, and eyes... eyes staring blankly from every inch of his flesh.

The stench of iron—blood, spilled and endless—hung thick in the air.

And still—they fought.

"Muichiro! Right flank!" Gyomei's voice thundered, his chain-flail a whirling wall of steel.

Mist. Wind. Crystal. They surged together in a desperate, chaotic rhythm.

Sanemi spun forward, his blade wrapped in shrieking gales.
Wind Breathing, Fifth Form – Cold Mountain Wind!
The strike carved across Kokushibo's ribs—blood spraying—only for the wound to knit shut before Sanemi could even land his next breath.

"Damn it—" Sanemi spat, sweat stinging his eyes. "He's not slowing down!"

Tsukiyo staggered, every breath cutting through broken ribs. Blood clung heavy to her sleeve. Her left arm—still throbbing from the shoulder she had slammed back into place—shook violently, her grip unsteady.

Sanemi's gaze flicked back, his voice cracking with frustration. "Tsukiyo, fall back!"

"I said—I'm fine!" she snapped, though the strain in her tone betrayed her.

In truth, she wasn't. But something inside her would not bend.
Not while Sanemi fought with everything he had.
Not while Genya bled at her side.
Not while lives still teetered between light and oblivion.

She forced her breathing steady.
Each inhale—cold as glass.
Each exhale—like shards cutting through her chest.

Her eyes darted to Genya. His body was failing—the demonic flesh peeling away, regeneration slowing to nothing. His pallor was ash, blood dripping steadily from his side.

And Kokushibo noticed.

The demon's blade lashed out—black and brutal.

"GENYA!!" Sanemi's scream tore through the chamber.

Too late.

The sword pierced straight through Genya's stomach, lifting him off the ground like a rag doll. Blood cascaded down the steel in heavy rivulets.

Time fractured.

"GENYA!!"

Sanemi's voice cracked raw, feral, tearing at his throat as he lunged. Kokushibo retracted the blade with cruel precision, letting Genya crumple. Sanemi caught him mid-fall, arms trembling as he lowered him down.

"Oi—Genya—! No, no—look at me, damn it!"

Genya coughed blood, his hand fumbling weakly until it clutched Sanemi's uniform, smearing it crimson. His voice was a broken rasp.
"I'm... sorry... nii-san..."

"No," Sanemi choked, shaking his head violently. His grip was desperate, holding his brother as though strength alone could anchor him to life. "Don't you say that. Don't you dare say that!"

For an instant, the world fell away.

The battle. The blood. The castle itself.

It was just the two of them.
Two brothers.
Years of silence and distance collapsing under the weight of this single moment.

Sanemi's voice broke, his forehead nearly pressed against Genya's. "I acted cold because I thought it was the only way you'd survive. I thought if you hated me, you'd get away. You'd live, a happy life that belongs to you."