With that resolve hardening in his chest, Souji launched a relentless flurry of attacks, his fists a blur as they tore through the air, aimed directly at Shoko. Each strike burned with the intensity of his sorcery, the heat radiating off him in waves. "At least one of these has to hit!" Souji thought, gritting his teeth as he pressed forward. But Shoko was quick, his form flickering like a ghost as he dodged each blow.
From the shadows, Shoko’s voice emerged, his tone taunting. "You're running out of things to burn, kid," he sneered, though there was a hint of desperation in his voice. He could feel the walls closing in on him, his options dwindling. Souji had systematically destroyed every object Shoko had transferred his consciousness into—each shelf, each trinket, and each stray item in the room had been turned to ash. And with fewer things left to jump into, Shoko was cornered.
Shoko's mind raced, panic bubbling beneath his calculated exterior. He could only transfer his consciousness into objects smaller than himself, and only those within his line of sight. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—soon, there would be nothing left for him to hide in. His eyes darted around the room, searching for anything he could use to escape his imminent doom. But Souji had anticipated this.
Souji paused for a moment, his mind sharp as he set up a trap in his thoughts. Shoko's ability relied on transferring into objects, and since he hadn’t fled the area, it was likely his range was limited to what he could see. With most of the objects now destroyed, Souji knew it was only a matter of time before Shoko would have to manifest in his physical form again. He braced himself, his fists igniting with renewed fury as he prepared for the final assault.
But then, just as the last object on the shelf disintegrated under Souji’s flames, he sensed something—a bolt of Sor shooting past him like a streak of lightning. His eyes widened as he realized its trajectory. "Mika!" Souji yelled, his voice cracking with urgency. But it was too late—the Sor enveloped the unconscious Fushi, wrapping around him like a venomous snake.
"Manifesting as myself would let these bastards kill me in an instant," Shoko thought, a twisted grin forming on his lips. "But if I take over this kid’s body, I’ll crush them before they even realize what's happening." As Souji's shout echoed in the room, Fushi’s small body jerked unnaturally, his eyes snapping open with a cold, unfamiliar gaze.
The room crackled with tension, the heat from Souji’s fists radiating out like the sun’s rays in the height of summer. Sweat dripped down his face, but his gaze never left the unnatural movements of Fushi’s body. His friend’s frame jerked like a marionette, strings pulled by an unseen master. It was Fushi’s body, but Souji could see the cold intelligence in his eyes. Shoko was in control.
Every breath Souji took was labored. The adrenaline pulsed in his veins, but the emotional toll of seeing his friend’s body corrupted by Shoko’s malevolent will weighed heavily on him. His fists burned brighter with each passing second. He gritted his teeth, his determination blazing with a singular focus: defeat Shoko and save Fushi.
“Souji, we can’t afford to lose focus!” Mika barked, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth where Fushi’s punch had landed. His eyes were sharp, no sign of the playful butler demeanor that usually masked his deadly efficiency. He was all business now—ready to end the threat standing before them.
Fushi—or Shoko—stood before them, his small frame quivering with pent-up energy, but the unnatural posture told them everything they needed to know. Fushi’s body was not his own. His limbs twitched, his eyes glowed faintly with Shoko’s presence, and a smirk spread across his face, a grin far too malicious for the Fushi they knew.
“You’re wasting your time, you idiots,” Shoko sneered, Fushi’s voice warped by the presence of the sorcerer inside him. “You won’t be able to hurt your friend, will you?” He moved Fushi’s body like a puppet, taking a step forward with exaggerated ease.
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The air was thick with tension as Souji and Mika rushed forward, their feet echoing off the stone floor. The once vibrant room had been reduced to smoldering wreckage, charred wood and ash scattered in their wake. Despite the chaos around them, their focus was singular: the twisted entity wearing Fushi’s face like a grotesque mask. Shoko’s mocking grin stretched across the boy’s features, but Souji’s heart clenched as he saw glimpses of his friend buried beneath it.
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Mika’s eyes sharpened as he closed the distance, his decision clear—eliminate the threat, no hesitation. Souji, on the other hand, was torn. There had to be a way to save Fushi. There has to be, he thought, his fists trembling with a mixture of rage and fear. He believed—no, he knew—that if he could bring Fushi back to consciousness, it might break Shoko’s hold over him. He couldn’t just give up on his friend, not like this.
The two clashed with Shoko-controlled Fushi, Souji’s flame-lit fists blocking the strikes, while Mika’s precise blows sought any weakness. But it was becoming clear: Souji was holding back. Shoko noticed the hesitation, an almost predatory gleam in his eyes.
“You really think you can get him back? Pathetic!” Shoko sneered, his voice dripping with malice as Fushi’s body moved with eerie precision. He launched a series of rapid punches aimed directly at Souji’s face, each one infused with the force of Shoko’s stolen movements.
Souji, however, had an idea. His energy flared briefly around his face, forming an almost invisible layer of protection. The punches landed but were muffled, absorbed by the energy. This is working, Souji thought, a flicker of hope sparking in his chest.
Did he just… Protect himself with his ‘Sor’ energy? Ah… I get it.
Frustration built in Shoko. He couldn’t replicate sorcery abilities he hadn’t seen used. Without knowing Fushi’s full power, he was forced to rely on basic movements. Damn it, Shoko cursed internally, his mind spinning with a plan. "If I can’t outpower them, I’ll outmaneuver them," he thought, his eyes narrowing.
But as the battle dragged on, Shoko’s frustration grew into panic. He had taken over Fushi’s body, expecting it to serve him well, but now the limitations of the young boy’s physique were starting to show. The sorcerer felt an unsettling disconnect, like he was piloting a puppet with broken strings.
“This body is too weak…” Shoko growled under his breath, his movements becoming more erratic.
As he seethed, Shoko’s mind drifted back to a time when he was just another criminal, a man with nothing to lose. He remembered sitting on the curb of a desolate street, his car wrecked after a drunken crash that had shattered a small family’s life. He sat there, his hands cuffed, watching as the police officers surrounded him. "My sorcery," he thought bitterly, "it lets me transfer my spirit into objects smaller than me and within my sight. Once inside, I can replicate the actions they’ve taken—or similar ones. Like this kid—I can control him because I’ve seen humans run, fight, and move."
The memory cut to the moment when he had tried to escape the police, adrenaline and desperation driving his actions. "I made a stupid decision that night," he recalled, "I ran. But even though those bad choices caused horrible things, they allowed me to see a Taser in action, to see guns fired at me as I tried to fight back…" His thoughts darkened as he remembered the police subduing him with brutal efficiency. "I don’t know if this body will hold up against these two, but I have no choice! I’ll replicate the Taiho-jutsu the police used on me to defeat these fuckers!"
Fueled by this grim determination, Shoko rushed at Mika, engaging him in fierce close-quarters combat. Mika moved like a shadow, dodging and deflecting the incoming blows, but even he could feel the weight of Shoko’s relentless attacks pressing him back. Souji, watching Mika’s struggle, clenched his fists tighter. He couldn’t afford to hold back anymore—not if he wanted to help Mika.
As Souji circled around, he noticed something. Shoko’s movements were growing sloppier, and for the briefest moment, there was a shimmer—a shadowy form made of Sor energy, slightly out of sync with Fushi’s body. It was as if Shoko’s hold on Fushi was starting to slip.
"Now’s my chance," Souji thought, his heart pounding. With a burst of speed, he lunged at Shoko-Fushi, his hand drawn back for a decisive strike. Time seemed to slow as he brought his hand down in a sharp, deliberate chop aimed at the back of Fushi’s neck—a move meant to knock him unconscious without causing permanent harm.
Shoko’s eyes widened in horror as the realization hit him. “No! I—” But before he could finish his thought, Souji’s strike connected. The world around Shoko twisted and darkened as he felt his consciousness being ripped from Fushi’s body. His grip on reality faded, and suddenly, he was falling—plunging into an endless abyss.
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In the black void, Shoko’s thoughts became erratic, panicked. He tried to scream, but he had no mouth. He tried to move, but there was no body to command. "Where am I? What happened? Did that brat—" His thoughts cut off as the void consumed him, leaving nothing but fragmented echoes of his mind, scattered in the darkness.
Am I dead?
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Back in the physical world, Fushi’s small, limp body collapsed forward, freed from the grip of the malevolent sorcerer. Souji rushed to catch him, cradling his unconscious friend with care. His breath came in ragged gasps, but his relief was palpable. For now, at least, Fushi was safe.
Mika, who had been watching the entire exchange with keen eyes, finally exhaled, his muscles relaxing ever so slightly. But the tension between the two of them lingered. Fushi hadn’t woken up, and there was no telling what damage Shoko’s possession might have caused.