Noe followed the sound of fighting for several hundred meters before she found Cold Cry, still locked in combat with the Three-Headed Demon deep in the woods.
Broken trees surrounded them on every side, some snapped by brute force, others cut clean through by blade, all of it dusted white with ice.
The fight between them had only gotten worse, and both sides were paying for it.
The Three-Headed Demon was covered in wounds, its massive body gone entirely white. Even its breath came out pale, proof the cold had worked its way all the way through.
Cold Cry wasn't much better off. Ice clung to him in shards. No blood showed through his wounds, but the way he moved, listless, and the state of his torn haori made it clear he was hurt badly.
After a fight this long, he was sure of one thing now: the face on its chest really was its one true weak point.
The creature had known its neck was vulnerable, and over however many years it had lived, it had deliberately consumed two more bodies. It folded an entire extra head inward, burying it deep to keep it safe.
If that face and the head hidden behind it weren't destroyed, the demon would recover once the cold wore off. It might even come back stronger than before.
Of Ice Breathing's seven forms, Cold Cry had already used six, alone and combined, and still hadn't managed to punch through to sever its neck from the inside.
Only the seventh was left, his strongest technique. If even that couldn't finish it, he'd have no choice but to let this one go and leave it for someone else, some other day.
"Cold Cry, I'm here to help."
Noe reached the edge of the fight, already drawing her blade to charge in, when he shouted at her to stop.
"Stay back. Don't come any closer."
She assumed he was still angry with her over what he'd said earlier.
"I... I already killed the Jumping Demon."
He glanced at her, voice low. "You'll only distract me." Then he turned back to the fight without another word.
She'd learned enough about his temper by now to know that pushing in against his wishes would only get her yelled at, and that would throw her off just when it mattered most.
She hesitated, then lowered her head and stepped quietly aside, decision made.
She wanted to help. She was scared for him. But going in now felt wrong, though if he actually got into real danger, she suspected he wouldn't complain, and she might even earn some goodwill out of it.
She looked up, managed a small smile, and called out, "Then... just be careful."
He didn't answer, his eyes locked on the demon, a wave of cold rolling off him and spreading outward.
Everywhere it touched ground, grass, the trees bloomed with pale ice flowers.
A gust of wind passed through, shaking loose fine shards of ice from the frozen air.
Noe shivered, her breath fogging in front of her. Only then did it click: maybe he hadn't been keeping her away because she was in the way, but because of what this move would cost him. A Breathing Technique this powerful, in cold this deep, had to be brutal on the lungs.
He gripped the hilt with both hands, turned the blade forward, and drew a slow breath. The mist and ice around him surged in toward him.
"Ice Breathing, Seventh Form: Icy Dragon Dance."
He stepped forward, twisted from the waist, and let that motion carry through his whole body into the swing.
The blade traced a fixed, sweeping arc through the air. Cold gathered at its edge, and every rotation dragged a sound out of the air like a dragon's roar.
Caught in the wind and snow, he moved like something out of a dream. Noe couldn't find words for it.
Across from him, the demon roared, its six massive hands chasing him through the storm.
Then he completed his final turn, blade aimed straight at it. The roar broke loose all at once, and the blade's path carved out a full ice dragon in the air, vast, white, unstoppable and drove it straight into the demon's six reaching hands.
The collision hit like thunder, throwing up a wall of wind and shattered ice.
Noe couldn't keep her eyes open against it. She threw an arm up over her face and ducked behind a tree.
A moment later, a scream tore out of the center of the storm, twisting together with the dragon's roar until the two sounds seemed to be ripping each other apart. Then, all at once, it broke and faded to nothing.
Silence settled over everything.
She stepped out from behind the tree, carefully, into a world gone entirely white, fine ice still drifting down over ground already covered in it.
Somewhere in that white, a huge shape stood at the center of the clearing, with a smaller one behind it.
Had they won?
Was Cold Cry all right?
She ran toward the smaller figure, shivering against the cold that hung in the air. As she passed the demon, she froze.
It stood there, encased entirely in ice, still locked in an attacking stance, every one of its six arms severed and scattered across the ground, a gaping hole punched clean through its chest. There was no trace left of the face at all.
Behind it, Cold Cry knelt on one knee, propped up on his blade, his left arm hanging useless at his side.
She dropped beside him, reaching out to steady him. "Cold Cry, are you...are you okay?"
He turned his head slowly, like even that cost him everything he had left.
Once he registered who it was, he lifted a trembling hand and pushed her back. "Let's... get out of here. You go ahead."
She bit her lip, hurt she couldn't quite name. He could barely stand, and he still wouldn't let her help. Was she really that unwelcome?
She turned away, head down, fingers picking at each other, then heard something rustle behind her.
He was following, using the blade as a crutch, unsteady. Then he stumbled, and before he could hit the ground, a streak of pink caught him.
She sheathed his blade for him, hung it back at his waist, pulled his arm over her shoulders, and started walking him forward.
He tried to push her off.
This time, she didn't budge.
Through his clothes, he could feel her warmth working into him, her body pressed against his like a living heater.
"You... should let go of me."
Whether it was the injuries, exhaustion, or just embarrassment, the words came out slow and stiff. When she didn't answer right away, he added, "Aren't you cold? Don't come crying to me if you get frostbite."
Frostbite? Is he worried I'll get frostbite?
So it wasn't that he couldn't stand her; he was actually worried about her.
Her whole face lit up, a smile breaking through.
"You're a strange one. Smiling like that over frostbite."
He shook his head, at a loss; no boy his age stood a chance at understanding what went on in a girl's head.