Hiroshi Vs Kurumi Part-I : The Jester Tyrant

Hiroshi’s teeth clenched as flames roared around his arms. “SCORCHING DOWNFALL!” he shouted, drawing the fenrir daggers and leaping high into the sky.

He spread his arms wide, and dozens of burning embers erupted around him, spiraling downward like miniature comets. His spinning daggers amplified the blast, sending a blazing rain straight toward Kurumi.

Kurumi’s grin widened. Without a hint of fear, he slipped into motion. “HALLUCINATING MOVEMENT!”

He flickered left. Then right. Then everywhere at once.

“H-Huh…?” Hiroshi muttered, eyes widening.

Kurumi’s feet barely touched the ground as he blurred across the field. His laughter echoed, stretching unnervingly. The attack sailed harmlessly through empty air—because Kurumi was never in one place long enough to be hit.

Then his voice—sharp and playful—cut through the wind.

“COPYCAT!”

A second later, he stopped, calmly raising a single hand toward Hiroshi. His iris twisted into a black-and-white spiral that vanished almost immediately. Hiroshi paused, confused by the strange, passive motion.

“What was that? Why didn’t he attack? What is he—” Hiroshi thought, but got interrupted.

Kurumi jumped.

“SCORCHING DOWNFALL!”

He copied Hiroshi's move.

Knives materialized in his hands. Embers formed around him in a perfect imitation—same shape, same rhythm, same intensity. When he launched them, they rained across the battlefield in a merciless barrage.

Hiroshi barely had time to react before the embers crashed into him. Explosions tore through the ground. The force hurled him back violently, flames biting into his skin. He hit the ground hard and rolled, smoke rising from his clothes.

Kurumi stepped forward, mocking laughter bubbling out of him.

“Oh? What’s wrong? Not used to the taste of your own medicine?”

Hiroshi pushed himself up, coughing. His hands trembled. His eyes, shaken with disbelief, locked onto Kurumi.

“He used my move… how? Copying me? No… mimicking me perfectly…” Hiroshi thought, tensely.

He staggered, inhaled sharply, and slammed a foot into the ground.

“VOLCANIC IMPACT!”

The earth split as a chain of erupting craters tore toward Kurumi. Heat surged, dust spiraling upward.

Kurumi’s eyes twisted again into that swirling spiral.

“VOLCANIC IMPACT!”

His stomp mirrored Hiroshi’s perfectly—same angle, same power. A second chain of volcanic eruptions ripped through the ground.

Both moves collided, exploding in a massive blast of smoke and molten debris. A dense fog spread, swallowing everything.

Hiroshi didn’t waste a second. Lightning sparked around his legs—the ability he gained in Antarctica awakened. In a heartbeat, he vanished.

He darted around Kurumi like a living bolt of lightning, moving so fast that only flickering shadows and streaks of blue light betrayed his position. Kurumi narrowed his eyes, trying to catch even a glimpse.

Hiroshi’s voice echoed from within the haze, sharp and determined:

“FLAMING SLASH ’N DASH!”

With a sudden shift in direction, Hiroshi lunged straight at Kurumi, daggers glowing red-hot.

But Kurumi’s expression didn’t flinch.

“INVISIBLE FRAME!”

He gently extended his hand, as if brushing aside a curtain.

An unseen wall slammed into existence.

And Hiroshi never saw it.

He crashed into it full-force. The impact rattled his bones. Before he could regain balance, the invisible barrier dissolved—and he fell face-first into the ground.

Kurumi’s shadow loomed above him.

“HAMMER HIT!”

A massive, spectral hammer formed in Kurumi’s hands. With one smooth motion, he brought it crashing down onto Hiroshi’s chest.

A sickening crack filled the air.

Hiroshi’s breath was snatched from him instantly. Pain exploded through his ribs—snapping under the force. He gasped, eyes wide, body convulsing.

Kurumi threw his head back and let out a manic, echoing laugh.

“The Flame Demi-God… reduced to THIS? Pathetic!”

Hiroshi lay on the shattered earth, coughing violently, vision blurring—but his eyes still burned, refusing to give up.

He forced his arms against the ground, trying to rise. His hands trembled violently, sweat dripping from his fingertips. Each breath scraped his lungs as he pushed himself upright.

Kurumi stomped lightly on the earth. “BOUNCY CASTLE!”

The ground warped in an instant. The soil stretched, softened, and transformed into elastic rubber. The battlefield bounced under Hiroshi’s feet, wobbling with every movement. Kurumi hopped gleefully, springing up and down like a child at a carnival, completely carefree.

Hiroshi struggled to balance himself on the rubbery terrain. His ribs throbbed. His vision blurred. Still—he stood.

He inhaled sharply and brought his arms forward.

“FIRE BLAST!”

A blazing X-shaped wave erupted from his strike, tearing across the battlefield. This time, Kurumi didn’t dodge. The hit landed perfectly. Light burst around him.

For a second, silence.

Then Kurumi’s body split—cleanly—into four pieces.

Hiroshi’s eyes widened. His voice cracked with disbelief.

“What?! He is dead!? How so easily!?”

A fist slammed into his back.

CRACK!

Another rib snapped. Hiroshi was launched forward like a ragdoll, tumbling across the ground until he scraped to a stop.

Kurumi’s voice drifted behind him, playful and mocking.

“ILLUSIONARY SURPRISE PUNCH! I got you so bad right there.”

Hiroshi groaned, clutching his chest. Breathing felt impossible—each inhale like fire chewing through his lungs. Still, Kurumi didn’t even look back at him.

He walked towards Majuro.

Shinzo and Majuro stood shoulder to shoulder, fear tightening their expressions. Shinzo stepped forward first, gripping a stone in desperation. He swung it at Kurumi’s head—his brave attempt.

Kurumi didn’t even blink. He kicked Shinzo aside, launching him across the field.

In the settling dust, Kurumi stopped inches from Majuro. His right arm stretched forward, palm open, demanding.

“Hand me that cube, old man.”

Majuro’s eyes blazed. His voice shook with fury.

“Over my dead body!”

Kurumi’s grin sharpened.

“Then so be it.”

His fist pulled back.

On the ground, Hiroshi watched all of it through blurred vision. He blinked once.

And when he opened his eyes—

Majuro’s head was gone.

Kurumi’s punch had been so brutally fast, so monstrously strong, that Majuro’s head had exploded the moment it connected. Blood sprayed across Kurumi’s arm and face. The tyrant frowned in disgust and shook his hands, flicking the blood away.

“Filthy blood!”

Majuro’s body crumpled to the ground.

Kurumi crouched, plucked the Yellow cube from the corpse’s side, and slipped it casually into the pouch on his belt—like taking a toy he had been promised.

Hiroshi saw everything—Majuro’s headless body, Kurumi wiping the blood off with a disgusted shrug.

Something inside him detonated.

A trembling breath escaped him.

Then the rage surged.

His pain vanished—no, it was burned away by something far greater. Hiroshi pushed himself up, his hands shaking violently at first… then slowly stabilizing as heat flooded his limbs.

His gaze locked onto Majuro’s corpse. Tears welled up, but the heat rising from his skin was so intense that the droplets evaporated mid-fall, turning into tiny wisps of steam drifting upward.

A low hum rumbled through the air.

Hiroshi’s aura began to flicker—first like a candle… then like a torch… then like a roaring furnace.

Flames burst from his hands, but they weren’t the familiar orange. They were shifting—swirling violently between orange and blue, forming rings of fire around his arms. The ground beneath him cracked as heat radiated outward.

His eyes brightened from dull red to a blazing crimson glow.

The aura around him grew thicker, heavier, rising like a storm. Wisps of blue fire spiraled upward like ascending serpents. It wasn’t just flames—it was pressure, suffocating and furious, shaking the very air around him.

Hiroshi took a single step forward—

BOOM!

A shockwave burst from his body, scattering dust and pebbles like a small explosion.

Without a word, he put his daggers back in and launched himself at Kurumi.

No daggers.

No hesitation.

Only fists.

He hammered blow after blow, each punch wrapped in swirling layers of blue-orange flame. Every strike grew faster, sharper, more precise—driven by rage, grief, and something deeper erupting inside him.

Kurumi’s smirk crumpled.

“No way! How can he get so powerful in the blink of an eye! His flames have gotten hotter! His movements are faster! He is fighting like a beast!” His mind rushed whilst he tried to parry Hiroshi's punches.

As Hiroshi kept blowing punches, the red Sugokyo Mark on his hand pulsed—then shifted, its color flooding into a brilliant, burning blue. The mark glowed so brightly it illuminated Hiroshi’s arm like a divine brand.

Kurumi’s thoughts raced.

“He’s trying to attack near my heart! I need to get him away!”

Kurumi punched Hiroshi back with all his force—

—but Hiroshi didn’t even react. Not a flinch. Not a blink.

He drew his daggers and blurred forward.

“FLAMING SLASH ’N DASH!”

Kurumi produced knives in his hands and reacted instantly.

“FLAMING SLASH ’N DASH!”

Two flaming trails tore across the battlefield—Kurumi’s orange streak swerving past Hiroshi’s blue-orange comet-like arc. Their blades of flame collided mid-dash, exploding into dazzling bursts of sparks that rained down around them.

Hiroshi’s slashes grew sharper, his aura roaring louder with each movement. Kurumi barely managed to evade, leaping back as Hiroshi’s blue flames carved the air.

Then Kurumi froze.

“Blue Flames..?” he whispered.

A memory struck him like lightning.

[Flashback]

He stood in the same cold meeting room. The massive black screen loomed ahead, and his master’s distorted silhouette flickered on it.

“Kurumi,” the Master said, calm yet carrying a warning edge. “If the boy you’re about to face ever manifests Blue Flames, retreat immediately. Do not test him. Rorark will kill you. And that too easily.”

The warning echoed inside Kurumi’s mind.

[Back to the Battle]

Kurumi’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Hiroshi—deeply, cautiously.

A faint tremor crawled up his spine.

“Is he Rorark..? The one Master spoke of? Impossible! How can Master fear a brat this weak?”

But he couldn't finish the thought,

Hiroshi moved.

In an instant, Hiroshi burst forward—daggers blazing, aura erupting like a storm of mixed orange and blue fire. His presence alone felt like a burning reactor ready to explode.

“ENGULFING FLAMES!”

Hiroshi vanished from the spot.

A split-second later, he appeared right in front of Kurumi—so close Kurumi’s pupils shrank.

Then the dagger sank.

Straight into Kurumi’s heart.

Blood erupted violently, spraying across the ground in a sharp crimson arc. Kurumi’s body jerked and collapsed, crashing onto the stone floor. His breath hitched. Groans escaped him, raw and pained.

“H–How… did you know… my weakness…?” he whispered.

Hiroshi’s flames crackled around him, wrapping his body like an overpowering aura. His voice remained steady.

“A Tyrant always guards whatever he fears the most. My punches hit every vital point… but you only protected your heart. That made it obvious.”

Kurumi blinked.

And then he began laughing.

A weak chuckle at first…

Then louder.

Then twisted.

Deranged.

Unsettling.

Hiroshi frowned. “Did you lose your senses when death came for you?”

Kurumi’s laughter erupted even harder, echoing through the arena.

“You idiot… I don’t care about my weaknesses!”

He pushed himself up—slowly, painfully—revealing the torn, damaged flesh of his chest.

And beneath it—

Hiroshi’s eyes widened.

A fake heart.

Fresh. Beating. Artificial.

Kurumi’s flesh regenerated rapidly, sealing the wound.

“I don’t risk my real heart,” Kurumi said with a grin. “I live on an artificial one. My true heart is in the Third Ring. And you… will never reach it.”

His smile twisted into mania.

“Well then… If you really are Rorark…”

He spread his arms wide, a big smile of pleasure on his face.

“...I’ll have to use my final form.”

To Be Continued…