"Like, it's really like..."
He said this with difficulty, his voice faltering, as weak as a thread.
This guy is surprisingly not dead yet, truly possessing a resilient life force.
Kamiya raised the Onikiri. "What do you mean?"
"You... are like Abe no Seimei from back then, and also like Ashiya Dōman."
"Is that so?" Kamiyagawa shook his head. "You might be disappointed. I'm like no one else, I am just myself."
The Onikiri swept down, striking fiercely at Kousei-ō's head.
A dull sound of a blade slicing into flesh.
The tricolored Vengeful Spirit mask was jarred off by the impact.
"Hannya."
Kamiya called softly.
A figure in a Purple and White Juban swiftly moved out from beside him.
Hannya caught the peculiar mask.
The moment she touched the mask, it dispersed into flowing red, blue, and brown lights, surging toward the prototype of a third mask not yet formed, which hovered at her waist.
Indeed, Hannya and this mask were fated.
