THE SHRINE OF TWO MOONS PART 5: TSUKURO’S CONVINCTION

Reiji reached through the crushing weight of the vacuum and seixed Tsukuro by the collar. With a guttural roar, he drove his forehead into the center of Tsukuro’s face.

The impact landed with a sickening, wet thud. The Shinku Rin wavered as Tsukuro’s concentration shattered under the bone-breaking force of the headbutt.

Reiji started punching.

Each strike was powered by silver circulation burning through his muscle fibres.

On the third punch, Tsukuro snapped his fingers, releasing Shinku Rin.

Black water fell like rain, slamming back into gravity. Sound rushed in violently, sending Reiji to the ground. Reiji’s lungs tore open as air flooded back in.

Tsukuro stumbled back as well, blood stinging his eyes, water collapsing around him in uneven waves.

Impossible.

I’m bleeding!

Tsukuro straightened, rage in his eyes.

“ENOUGH!” he bellowed. “No more tricks! No more illusions!”

The water answered him instantly, roaring in towering spirals.

Reiji’s left hand hung useless at his side but he had just enough sensation place his thumb on the tsuba.

He grinned and glanced up.

“So that’s what you look like,” he rasped, “when you’re not smiling.”

Tsukuro snarled. “What did you say, you insignificant worm?”

Reiji bent and retrieved his wakizashi with his right hand. He weighed it once, swinging it in an effortless arc then sheathed it into its saya.

“….What are you planning?” Tsukuro demanded.

Reiji shook his head, blood slipping from his brow.

“I’m not planning anything,” he gestured faintly with his dead left arm, “A you can see… my body is useless. I can’t fight as I would like….”

He took a slow step forward.

“…Still,” Reiji continued calmly, “I’m disappointed. All that power…. and you’re still afraid of me.”

Tsukuro’s eye twitched so hard it might explode. The insult was more painful than the headbutt.

“I am afraid of you?!” he roared.

The water around him condensed into spinning rings that collapsed and reformed in rapid succession.

“You are a mere pebble! A speck of dust in my path!”

With a scream, Tsukuro thrust both hands forward.

Reiji moved with efficiency, turning his movements into a series of micro-slips and effortless pivots.

Whoosh!

A vertical blade carved a trench where he had been.

Crack!

A horizontal scythe passed his chest, followed by needles of compressed pressure aimed at his joints and neck.

“You’re sloppy now,” Reiji laughed. “You weren’t like this before.”

"Die! Just die!" Tsukuro’s hands were a blur of motion now, weaving a tapestry of hydro-execution.

Reiji drifted through the storm. To an observer, it looked like he was dancing, but there was no rhythm—only a total absence of intent. He didn't look at the blades; he watched Tsukuro’s eyes.

"Is this your limit?" Reiji taunted. "You're throwing everything you have at a 'pebble,' yet you haven't touched me once."

He stepped closer. A water-bolt clipped his shoulder, tearing the fabric of his kimono and drawing blood, but Reiji didn't even flinch. His eyes locked on Tsukuro’s pale, sweat-slicked face, stopping inside of striking range. His plan was working; now all he needed was a single strike before his Kishin unravelled– the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

Tsukuro’s face contorted into a mask of pure, humiliated agony.

His thoughts ran in a panic loop through his head.

He’s inside my range.

When did that happen?

I don’t remember him moving.

No—he did move. I just failed to notice.

Don’t tell me—

That breathing technique. It makes him faster? Or the world Slower?

And—why am I hands shaking?

Am I—afraid?

Reiji waved with his right hand. “Go ahead. Try again. I won’t even use my hand this time.”

“Damn you, little samurai!!” Tsukuro roared. “I won’t lose to you!”

Driven by the frantic need to erase the look on Reiji’s face, Tsukuro pulled every drop of the surrounding black water toward a single point between his palms. Pressure imploded, as the water rings collapsed into a singular, dense of swirling energy resembling a huge meat-grinder.

“Shinku Rin—Abyssal Cradle!”

As the Abyssal cradle reached its terminal density, gravity around Tsukuro’s hands began to warp the light itself. It was like a whirlpool vortex ready to collapse and take everything within twenty feet with it.

Reiji inhaled, coating his remaining Kishin on his sword and placing his right hand on the hilt.

Clack!

His thumb flicked the tsuba.

“Kokyu Ryoku,” he whispered. “Fifth form: Event Horizon.”

He exhaled and launched forward.

The draw was silent. A thin needle-like thrust it barely disturbed the air, piercing the centre of the forming abyss.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened, then pressure imploded in a violent shockwave. Tsukuro’s eyes went wide as the pressure rebounded through his arms, his own technique turning against him. The black water around him shrieked, locking his form in place. His torso was the first to go.

Once Tsukuro couldn’t control the water, it all came undone. The Mizugokoro no ori fold shattered, returning them to the shrine.

Black water erupted upward, clashing with the falling rain in a chaotic spray. The torii gates reasserted themselves, wood groaning as if waking from a nightmare. The supernatural tide drained away, retreating into puddles and cracks, leaving the shrine soaked.

Tsukuro hit the ground hard, skidding across the courtyard. Blood leaked from his lower half that was now shredded flesh. He began to crawl toward the pillars, his fingers scratching desperately at the wet stone.

Reiji fell near the racks of ema plaques. He took a huge breath of clean oxygen —the first real air since being trapped. It burned his lungs but it was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted. He stood up slowly,glancing at the pathetic creature attempting to flee.

Tsukuro backed away on his elbows, his eyes wide with terror.

“Stop.....stop coming closer!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “Do you know who I serve?! Stay bac…!”

He hit the base of a stone pillar and realised there was nowhere left to go.

"N-no....wait.....please! I’ll tell you everything! About Murei....Sutoku.....I can give you names! I can give you their secrets! Help me!” 

Tsukuro reached out a blood-slicked hand, his face drowning in fear. 

Reiji looked down at his sword. The blade was still flickering with the last remnants of silver Kishin, humming like a dying star. He didn't feel pity; he felt the weight of every second he had spent starving for air.

"Unlucky for you," Reiji said, his voice as cold as the rain. "I still have Kishin left. And I can't let you live….”

He raised the wakizashi in a low rising arc.

“…..Not after what you did to the Priests."

Slash!

Outside the shrine, green aura traced over the shrine — a containment barrier—humming softly.

Four Onmyoji stood in a loose semicircle, careful not to cross the boundary line marked by talismans embedded in the earth.

As the two moons overhead slowly merged back into one—

“Hey, Toshinori,” Tatsu said, hands tucked casually into his sleeves. “Looks like the Fold’s broken. Did the Bureau already send someone in?”

Tatsu wore the short combat garb of the Suppression Division—dark indigo jacket split at the sides for mobility, reinforced wrappings along his forearms. His uniform bore scorch marks and old stitch repairs, the signs of someone who preferred action over paperwork.

“I do not believe so,” Toshinori replied, pressing two fingers against the barrier. The green aura reacted immediately, spiralling violently.

“By the laws that bind, release,” he intoned, his robes snapping in the sudden spiritual wind. 

"Kyu-Kyu Nyo Ritsu Ryo"

The barrier disappeared.

Toshinori’s robes were layered and immaculate—white inner kosode and dark blue outer haori embroidered with faint charms that only revealed themselves when Kishin flowed. His hair was bound in a scholar’s knot, secured with a lacquered pin etched with the sigil of the Seal Division. Every movement he made was measured, precise.

“From what I was briefed,” he continued calmly, “Ryokan was assigned to investigate this anomaly. However, no contact has been established.”

“So,” Tatsu frowned. “We go in or what?”

He glanced over his shoulder at the other two.

“Aoi? Mai?”

Aoi and Mai stood close together, heads tilted toward one another, whispering fiercely.

“Ah, focus, you two. What are you even talking about?”

Mai turned first, folding her arms. “You really want to know? Fine. We’re talking about Sayo.”

Tatsu sighed loudly. “Of course you are.”

“What’s going to happen to her?” Mai pressed.

“Look,” Tatsu exhaled, “I don’t know what the Bureau will decide. She broke the rules....so there will be consequences. And unless you want to find out firsthand what those consequences look like, I suggest you stop asking questions.”

Aoi held his stare for a moment longer. Then she turned away.

Toshinori interrupted, gesturing toward the shrine.

 “You two remain here.”

“Tatsu and I will proceed inside. If you cannot sense our auras within twenty minutes, inform the Bureau and request reinforcement.”

Aoi and Mai nodded.