The theater lights were still dim.
But the warmth was gone.
A silence stretched as the curtains fell. My hand was already on my blade when it happened.
I couldn't move.
Something pulled tight across my body—like silk threads suddenly wrapped around my joints. My limbs didn't respond. I looked down.
Strings.
Thin, glowing threads ran from my wrists, elbows, ankles—up into the ceiling like they were being held by something above.
I tried to step forward. My legs jerked slightly but stayed rooted.
A familiar laugh rang from the stage.
"Careful now," said Saburo, the Fool. "You'll ruin my final act."
He hadn't moved from center stage. That sick smile still painted across his mask.
I focused.
Every muscle. Every breath. I wasn't a puppet. I wouldn't let him make me one.
Push through. Now.
I gritted my teeth, tightened my core—and pulled.
The strings fought back.
But they weren't invincible.
With a surge of strength, I snapped one—then another. My arm swung free. My blade came out in a flash.
The audience stayed frozen in their seats—smiling, clapping, entranced.
I broke through the last few threads, dropping to one knee. My breath came hard. I stood again.
Saburo's grin widened.
"Impressive," he said. "You're quicker than most toys."
I didn't reply.
I dashed forward, blade drawn.
He didn't flinch.
Instead, he waved his hand.
And people—civilians—stood from their seats.
Dozens of them.
Their eyes were empty. Smiling. But wrong.
Puppets.
Strings trailed from their shoulders.
"No!" I shouted.
The first man rushed at me, arms out like a ragdoll. I ducked and rolled. A woman followed, her dress swaying unnaturally. I twisted and slid past her. I couldn't slash them. Couldn't risk it.
More came. Some with chairs. Some swinging their fists.
I moved like water.
Think. Don't fight them. Free them.
I focused on the strings. One clean swipe across three lines—and they collapsed like dropped puppets. Unharmed. Still breathing.
He wasn't just a demon. He was a tactician. A twisted performer.
Saburo kept clapping lazily, cane tapping the floor.
I kept moving, cutting strings. Ducking. Blocking. Advancing a step at a time through a wall of controlled civilians.
And then, smoke.
A burst of blue mist exploded from the stage. I shielded my eyes.
When it cleared, there were three of him.
Three Fools, standing side by side.
All identical. All smiling.
I moved cautiously. One lunged at me—his cane slashed forward. I blocked. It hit me.
So they weren't illusions.
But… something was off. The second one attacked next. A bit slower. The air around him didn't feel right. The third just stood there.
I shut my eyes for a brief moment. Breathed.
Trust your instincts. Smell. Sound. Presence.
The real one—his aura was still masked, but just slightly off.
He moved again.
That one.
I pivoted sharply and slashed through the imposter nearest me. It vanished in a pop of smoke.
Saburo tilted his head. "Oh… not bad."
Then, the third raised a hand.
A child—maybe six or seven—lifted into the air from the front row.
Strung up like a doll.
"Catch, swordsman," Saburo whispered.
He tossed the child across the room with a flick of his fingers.
No time to think.
I vanished.
Ghost Step.
I caught the child midair and rolled onto the floor, cradling him.
Safe.
But a razor-thin line of pain tore across my thigh.
I gasped.
A string had followed me—sliced the right leg.
Shallow, but bleeding.
I pulled the child close, ducked behind a row of seats. Laid him down gently. He was unconscious—but breathing.
Back to the stage.
Saburo was waiting.
"Let's turn up the tempo!"
From above, dozens more strings dropped like a net. I cut through three, then had to dive left to avoid another barrage. Chairs lifted. Curtains shifted. He was manipulating the entire room.
I fought through it. Breathing heavily now.
Don't kill. Don't falter.
He threw another man at me like a shield—I ducked and slashed the strings midair. A false floor panel opened near my feet. I leapt, landed on the railing, then charged along the sidewall.
He aimed a card this time—a glowing red one.
Blood Demon Art.
The card multiplied midair. A whirlwind of them.
I cut five. Dodged six. The last one spun toward my chest.
Too slow.
And then—
A blur of orange and red.
The card exploded midair.
Rengoku Kyojuro stood between us, smiling brightly. His blade still sizzling from the cut.
"Flame Hashira…?" Saburo said, voice sharper now.
"I've been watching," Rengoku said. "And now, your tricks end here!"
Saburo stepped back, his mask cracking slightly.
I took a shaky breath. "You came."
"Of course I did!" Rengoku grinned. "You're not dying in a cheap theater. Not today!"
He pointed his blade at Saburo.
And then…
The floor beneath him rippled.
A black-and-red card flipped open.
Before Rengoku could move—
It swallowed him.
In a flash of red smoke and a sound like a card snapping shut—
He was gone.
"Rengoku—!"
I rushed forward, slashing wildly.
But the card vanished too.
Saburo chuckled again.
"Oops," he said softly. "That was… unexpected."
I stood there, panting, blood trailing down my leg.
The child behind me stirred. The civilians still sat, unmoving.
And I realized—
It was just me now.
My blade.
My body.
And the Fool.
Alone.
But not afraid.
Not anymore.