The war machine approaches, its heavy footsteps shaking the ground.
It's the same bipedal weapon I saw earlier, its turrets and cannons swiveling to lock onto me.
Touko's Ki must have drawn its attention.
(So that's what woke it up), Ignis grumbles, her fury shifting to tactical assessment.
"Stay back, Touko," I command.
I don't turn to look at her.
"I won't allow it to harm you."
It points its rotary cannons towards me.
Its entire body glows with a menacing red aura as the weapon prepares to fire. It's coming straight for me.
The cannons start to spin with a high-pitched whine that tears through the air.
*WHIIIRRRR*
Circulatory Breathing.
I move my blade with speed that seems to defy physics, its edge just one continuous blur cutting through each incoming round, sending sparks flying everywhere.
The deflected bullets ricochet off the surrounding buildings, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.
I keep my footing, as I continue to deflect the incoming barrage of bullets.
The ground beneath my feet fractures and shatters from the force of the deflected rounds, but I remain unmoved.
It stops as abruptly as it began. The cannons spin down with a dying whine, and the machine pauses, its red optics fixed on me.
It seems to be… adapting.
Then, it switches to the anti-aircraft turrets on its shoulders, which begin locking onto me with predatory precision.
So it's switching tactics.
Fine.
I'm starting to get annoyed.
(Now you're getting it, Lenah! Annihilation is the only logical response to something this irritating.)
I'll finish this now.
"Void Impact breathing," I mutter, and point my sword at the machine.
World goes silent. My mind empties into mushin. There is no thought, only the action itself.
Second form‒‒
Single, complete breath commits my entire existence to the strike. I dash forward.
My blade becomes a blur—not just fast, but everywhere at once.
Each linear cut stacks on the last, perfectly layered. Ten strikes. A single, overwhelming sonic scream.
The air tears around me, compressed by impossible velocity. Space itself seems to twist.
I flash through the war machine, Homura tracing a searing line of pure force.
And then, in the next instant, I stand behind it—exactly where I began, but now on the other side.
I release the breath.
I sheathe Homura with a soft click.
The war machine remains standing for a moment. Its turrets, its cannons—all completely still.
"Instantaneous Tenfold Sonido."
For a heartbeat, there is only silence.
Then, with a deafening groan of protesting metal, the war machine comes apart.
It doesn't explode. It simply… separates—splitting cleanly into ten distinct pieces.
The sections slide apart and crash to the ground, one after another, in a relentless sequence of shattered steel and severed wires.
(Hmph. A bit of an overkill, don't you think? But I suppose it was efficient.)
You're the one who was just demanding annihilation. I am merely acting upon your recommendation. I state this plainly, without any hint of sarcasm.
(Don't twist my words, you infuriating woman!)
That was a joke.
Well, I did enjoy it, too.
(Y-You—! You enjoyed it?!)
I hear a small footstep behind me.
"Lenah…" Touko's voice is soft, hesitant, stripped of its usual teasing confidence.
I don't turn. I can't. Not yet.
The exhilarating focus of combat has faded, leaving behind the cold reality of what just happened between us. My own actions. The kiss. The touch. The... feeling.
It was a tactical decision, and also my own way of getting back at her. And yet… the feeling of her breast in my hand… The softness…
I... I…
Touko... I messed up. I need to get out of here.
I'm about to take a step forward when Touko wraps her arms around my waist from behind.
I freeze, my body going rigid.
"...You finally looked at me," Touko whispers, her voice muffled against the fabric of my kimono.
Her arms tighten around my waist, pressing herself against my back.
"All this time… you've never really *looked* at me."
Her words are not a clumsy blow, but a master's thrust—a tsuki that bypasses every guard I have.
It doesn't aim for flesh, but for the single, foundational stance upon which I have built myself. It doesn't wound. It shatters the ground beneath my feet.
Looked at her? What does she mean? I have always observed her, analyzed her, trained her. I am her master.
I provide instruction. I assess her progress. To look at her is fundamental to my role.
"What are you talking about?" I ask her.
"I see you," Touko clarifies, the previous hysteria gone.
"I always see you, Lenah. The way you look at Kita, with that… focus. That protection. I've seen it. But me? You see a student. A problem. A responsibility. But you never… see me."
Her breath is warm against the back of my neck, and with each word, it feels less like air and more like a confession pressed into my skin.
"You see my impulsiveness, my recklessness,"
"You see the older sister who teases, who fights, who causes trouble,"
"But you never saw the woman behind it all."
"That's not true," I say.
"I have observed your capabilities, your growth—"
"Observed!" Touko's scoff is a short, bitter sound against my back.
"That's exactly it, Lenah. You observe. You analyze. You don't *see*. Not like you did just now."
She presses further into me, and the full, soft weight of her breasts sinks deliberately against my back.
"When you kissed me," Touko continues.
"That wasn't a master disciplining a student. That wasn't an analysis. That was… you. For the first time, you didn't just 'observe' me. You… connected with me. You broke through the noise. You saw that I was drowning, and you reached for me."
"And when you… touched me… I felt you hesitate. I felt you react. That wasn't tactical. It wasn't a calculated move. For a second, you forgot you were a master, and you just… felt."
My throat is tight. I can't speak. Every word she says strips away another layer of my carefully constructed composure. She saw it. She felt my hesitation, my reaction… my desire.
"Touko," I breathe, but my voice is strained and unfamiliar.
I turn to face her, and I look directly into her eyes. There is no trace of hysteria left in them, only a calm, unnerving clarity.
"I…" I try to speak, but my throat refuses the command.
Touko gently lets go of my waist, her arms falling to her sides. But she doesn't step back.
"What is it, Lenah?" Touko asks, her voice soft but intense.
The question hangs in the air, simple and direct.
I search for words. A protocol. Apologize. Offer excuse. Reassert control. The thoughts come, but they're empty shells, cut off from intent. My mind, once a web of logic, is now just… static—useless noise drowning out every trace of focus.
And for the first time since I met her, I have no answer.
(You're useless, human. Say something), Ignis urges, frustrated.
(Anything! Don't just stand there like a statue! She's looking right through you!)
I stare at Touko, searching for the right words, the correct sequence of actions to de-escalate this... intimacy.
All my training, all my discipline, it's useless against the direct, unwavering intensity of her gaze.
Do I apologize? Do I deny it? Do I explain it as a necessary, if unconventional, tactic to prevent her self-destruction?
Any of those responses would be a lie. A partial truth, at best. The tactical element was there, yes. But it was tainted. Overwritten by my own… curiosity. By the flush of pleasure that I, for a moment, allowed myself to feel.
Touko sees my hesitation. She sees the internal conflict warring behind my eyes. And she smiles—not her usual teasing smirk, but a soft, knowing, almost sad smile.
I... I am a failure as her Master.
My gaze falls, dropping from hers to the ground between us. The admission is silent, internal, but it feels like shouting.
"I suppose we should go look for Kita," Touko says, her voice returning to a semblance of its usual intonation.
"She needs us."