CHAPTER EIGHT: SURRENDER

❝Rip your guts from your body,
bathe in the blood and the gore.❞

His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through the canopy above. The soft rustling of the trees caught his attention as the cool night breeze whispered through the forest, tousling the tips of his pink hair.

A rabbit darted out from the bushes, its sudden movement catching his eye for only a fleeting moment. He paid it no mind, his gaze distant and his thoughts elsewhere. With a small exhale, he resumed his walk, his steps silent but purposeful against the forest floor.

"Going somewhere, Pinky?"

The voice pierced the quiet, halting him mid-step. His body shifted with fluid precision as he turned toward the sound, his piercing gaze landing on its source.

(name) stood leaning against a fallen log, her posture casual but self-assured. Her clothing, a deep green that mirrored the hues of the forest around them, perfectly complemented the tresses of her hair, which fell in loose waves past her shoulders. Glasses perched on her nose, and a lazy grin curled on her lips. Her eyes, sharp and gleaming with a quiet confidence, reflected an aura that was both unbothered and commanding.

"Yo," she greeted, her voice calm and teasing, the word hanging in the air like a challenge.

Her demeanor spoke volumes. Shoulders slouched, her body language seemed almost dismissive, yet her presence was anything but. The corners of her eyes tilted downward in a way that suggested boredom, but Akaza wasn't fooled. His sharp gaze locked onto her, analyzing every detail.

Her aura.

Her smell.

The faintest trace of her scent reached him, carried on the night wind, and something primal stirred within him. In that moment, there was no mistaking it—she was the one he had been searching for. A wicked grin slowly spread across his face as he flicked his tongue across his lips.

"So, you're the one he wants brought to him," Akaza said, his voice low and edged with menace.

Her brows lifted slightly at his words, but her expression remained composed. If she was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, her lips quirked into a small, knowing smile.

"Muzan? Huh, I wonder why," she mused, her tone light and laced with mock curiosity. She stepped forward, her movements deliberate yet unhurried. However, she stopped just short of his reach, maintaining a cautious distance. She wasn't foolish—she knew exactly what Akaza was capable of.

"Did he enjoy the meal I prepared for him?" she asked, her voice carrying an almost playful edge.

Akaza smirked, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Enjoy it? To the point that he craves more. He yearns for you now, though I can't quite understand what's so fascinating about you."

"Fascinating?" she repeated with a soft laugh, twirling a strand of her green hair around her finger as her sharp eyes bore into his. "I wouldn't call it that. But if he's sent you to fetch me, I suppose I'm occupying more of his mind than I'd like." Her smile faded slightly, replaced by a flicker of irritation that she didn't bother to hide.

"As for why he wants me..." She sighed, her tone shifting to one of mild exasperation. "I'm not exactly in the mood to put on a show. I write, not perform."

"No matter," Akaza replied coldly, his body lowering into a battle stance. His legs spread apart, his torso angled forward as the tension in the air thickened. "I'll take you by force, whether you choose to comply or not."

Her smirk returned, sharp and almost taunting as she tilted her head to the side. "Tell me—just how strong do you think I am?" she asked, her voice low and laced with challenge. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as she sauntered closer, her eyes narrowing like a predator sizing up its prey.

The forest seemed to hold its breath, the tension between them palpable as the confrontation loomed. The night was silent save for the faint rustling of leaves, a quiet prelude to the storm about to unfold.

"You want to know what she's capable of?" Tamayo's voice was soft, yet it carried an unmistakable weight, her words hanging in the air like a veil of mystery. Her lips curved into the faintest of smiles—a ghost of an expression that left Yushiro with more questions than answers.

He sat behind her, diligently washing the utensils she had used for her latest experiment. His hands moved with precision, a habit ingrained from years of assisting her, but his mind was far from the task at hand. The room had been unusually quiet since their visitor—a peculiar Ghoul with an enigmatic aura—had left. The silence wasn't comforting; it was heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts and questions that neither had dared to voice until now.

Yushiro finally broke the stillness, his voice low but firm. "I know she's a Ghoul, Tamayo-sama. I know she endures pain most couldn't fathom, just to survive. But what I don't understand—what I can't seem to grasp—is the limit of her abilities. Where does it end?"

Tamayo didn't respond immediately. She continued her work with practiced grace, her hands moving steadily as she cleaned the remaining tools. Her eyes, calm and contemplative, flicked briefly toward him. "I would prefer you figure that out for yourself," she said at last, her tone almost teasing.

Yushiro frowned. He didn't like that answer, not one bit. He had come to expect clarity and straightforwardness from Tamayo, not cryptic responses. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the wooden table, the sound breaking the fragile silence in the room.

Tamayo noticed his agitation, of course. She always noticed. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, light and musical, yet it only added to Yushiro's frustration.

"Let's start with her origin," Tamayo offered, her voice soothing, as though to placate him.

"An orphan. A runaway," Yushiro replied almost instantly, leaning forward slightly as he searched her expression for clues.

"And why do you think she left?" Tamayo asked, her tone probing but patient.

Yushiro hesitated, his brow furrowing in thought. "Rebellion? Or maybe... she was cast out? Her parents could have died?"

Tamayo nodded thoughtfully, as if weighing his words. "And when you look at her, what do you see in her body?"

He paused, considering the question more carefully this time. "Fragile. She looks like she could break at any moment. At least, that's what I thought before you told me about her... abilities. Not that I'm... interested in her or anything, but I suppose she does have some... pleasing features."

Tamayo giggled softly, raising her hand to cover her smile. "She certainly has a charm about her, doesn't she?"

Yushiro bristled slightly, his face flushing. "I wouldn't call it charm," he muttered, averting his gaze. Not as beautiful as Tamayo-san.

"But there's more to her than meets the eye," Tamayo continued, her voice shifting to a more serious tone. "To her enemies, she is fear incarnate. Her presence exudes a darkness that threatens to consume anyone who stands in her way."

She began clearing the medical tools from the table, her movements slow and deliberate. Yushiro watched her, his eyes narrowing as her words sank in.

"It's fine to fear her, Yushiro," she said suddenly, her voice steady as she turned to meet his gaze. "Even I fear her."

Yushiro stiffened, her admission catching him off guard. Tamayo was not one to exaggerate or speak carelessly. If she said she feared someone, she meant it.

Before he could respond, Tamayo continued, her tone calm but firm. "There is no limit to her strength."

Yushiro froze, his hands halting mid-wash. Slowly, he turned to face her, disbelief etched across his features. "No limit? That's... impossible, Tamayo-sama."

"It's the truth," she replied, her eyes distant, as though recalling a memory she would rather forget. "Her body is a fortress, Yushiro. Her back is adorned with blade-like structures, her frame shielded by what can only be described as an armory. She could annihilate an entire nation's army single-handedly. Her power is beyond comprehension."

Yushiro felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine. Until now, he had dismissed the Ghoul as little more than a nuisance—a troublesome, meddlesome creature who seemed to delight in testing his patience. To hear Tamayo speak of her as a force capable of such destruction was almost too much to process.

"Could she..." He hesitated, his voice barely above a whisper. "Could she defeat him?"

Tamayo didn't hesitate. "Without question," she said, her voice resolute. "In terms of intelligence and raw power, she rivals Muzan himself. The only advantage he might have would be treachery—a knife hidden behind his back."

Yushiro let out a soft, incredulous noise. The chores before him were entirely forgotten as he grappled with the weight of her words.

"But she won't," Tamayo added, her tone softening. "Even if she has the power to obliterate him, she won't. And if, by some extraordinary circumstance, she were to lose a battle, it would only be because she chose to."

Yushiro stared at her, his mind racing. "Why would she hold back? It doesn't make sense."

"I don't know," Tamayo admitted, shaking her head slightly. "Perhaps it's something in her nature. But her strength is absolute. Not even the Hashira, with all their might and skill, could leave a single scratch on her."

"The Hashira?" Yushiro repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Even they couldn't defeat her?"

"Not even if they tried with everything they had," Tamayo said, a faint trace of amusement flickering in her expression. "And the strangest part? She would forgive them for it, even if their intent was to take her life."

Yushiro felt his breath catch in his throat. The thought of the Hashira—warriors renowned for their ability to defeat the Twelve Kizuki—being powerless against her was almost incomprehensible.

All this time, he had viewed her as nothing more than an annoyance...

His lips twitched in irritation. That Ghoul really was insufferably bothersome.

But that wasn't all, was it? Yushiro couldn't help but notice the peculiar glint in Tamayo-san's eyes whenever they settled on the girl with leaf-colored hair. It wasn't fear exactly, but something far more intricate—a mixture of pity, respect, and perhaps even a trace of curiosity.

he mystery surrounding her—the origin of her power, the truth behind her nature—loomed like a shadow over them all. For all Tamayo's wisdom and insight, even she couldn't claim to truly understand the extent of the girl's capabilities.

And that, more than anything, left Yushiro with an unimaginable sense of dread.

He had chosen, for so long, to push the unease aside, to let it simmer beneath the surface where it wouldn't betray his composure. But now, he felt the weight of the unknown pressing down on him like a tangible force.

They stood locked in a tense, silent standoff for what felt like an eternity, neither breaking eye contact nor flinching. Her expression remained calm, even indifferent, as if none of this concerned her in the slightest. After what must have been over five minutes, she broke the silence with a nonchalant shrug.

"Fine, I'll go with you," she said casually, as though agreeing to a trivial favor rather than conceding a fight.

Akaza blinked, caught off guard by her sudden compliance. "Huh? Don't tell me you're giving up just like that. Didn't you just say you're worth the fight?"

She snorted, her lips curling into a sharp smirk. "Sure, I might be worth the fight, but the real question is... am I worth your time? Because you certainly aren't worth mine."

Her sharp retort stung, and Akaza's patience snapped, tongue jutting against the inside of his cheek. With a low growl, he lunged forward, his fist cutting through the air with immense force. The wind resistance seemed to bow to his strength as his glowing eyes under the moonlight served as the only warning of his incoming attack.

But she wasn't human.

To her, his ferocity was no more intimidating than the flailing of a schoolyard bully. As his first punch arced toward her, a blow powerful enough to crush bone and shatter stone, she leaned back with an almost playful precision, dodging it effortlessly. Her smile stretched wider, crazed and unnerving, as her irises blackened and a vivid crimson bloomed in their centers, glowing ominously.

"You're predictable," she taunted with a sing-song tone, her voice dripping with amusement.

Her counter came swiftly. She lashed out with a punch aimed at his chest. Akaza blocked it with practiced ease, the force of her blow causing steam to rise from the impact. Their clash shook the ground beneath them, creating a small crater where they stood.

The battle escalated into a dazzling display of strength and skill. Akaza's movements were raw and unrelenting, each swing of his fists accompanied by the sound of air splitting under their force. His muscles rippled with every strike, his demonic aura flaring like a wildfire as he pressed forward.

But she was no ordinary opponent. Her movements were fluid, almost ethereal, as though she were gliding on air. Her slender frame weaved effortlessly through his attacks, her speed blurring her figure into an indistinct shadow. With every dodge, her laughter echoed through the night, a haunting melody that only served to fuel Akaza's frustration.

"Surrender," he growled, his voice rough with mounting anger.

"Never," (name) hissed back, her voice sharp and unwavering.

Without warning, her Kagunes erupted from her back in a grotesque display of power, the crimson tendrils curling like living blades. The sight made Akaza pause for a fraction of a second, his eyes flickering with a rare glimmer of uncertainty.

"You like what you see?" she teased, tilting her head in mock curiosity.

"Stop playing around," he snapped, his stance tightening as he prepared for her next move.

The fight intensified, their strikes becoming faster and more devastating. Akaza unleashed his Blood Demon Arts in a whirlwind of power, the air around them crackling with energy. She met him blow for blow, her Kagunes slicing through his attacks with a precision that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

Amid the chaos, she let out a laugh, her voice cutting through the destruction like a blade. "You really think you're winning here?" she sneered, dodging another devastating kick. "If you stopped acting like such a brute, maybe you'd realize how pointless this is."

Her smirk faltered, replaced by a cold, disinterested expression. "This is getting boring," she muttered.

Before Akaza could respond, she did something he hadn't anticipated—she sat down. Her legs crossed, and she rested her chin on her hand, looking up at him with a mixture of defiance and boredom.

"Go on, drag me there," she said, her voice filled with mockery. "Hurt me, torture me, do whatever you want. Do you think I care? You can't kill me. And if you do... well, death will be your new best friend." She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous light.

"But as if you could," she added, her tone dripping with contempt.

Her words hit a nerve. Akaza's composure wavered as his patience frayed, but he didn't lose control. Instead, with a low growl, he grabbed her by the collar and hauled her to her feet.

"Oh! So you do have some patience!" she exclaimed, her laughter bubbling forth in genuine amusement. Her taunts continued, relentless and biting, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she marveled at his restraint.

Akaza dragged her forward, his grip firm and unyielding. His irritation was palpable, but so was his begrudging respect. Memories of her power flashed through his mind—bones crushed, lives obliterated, entire fields of destruction left in her wake.

"She's strong," he muttered under his breath, almost as if to convince himself.

As he pulled her along, she glanced upward, her gaze catching on a crow perched silently on a nearby branch. Their eyes met, the bird's dark silhouette stark against the moonlit sky.

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. The fight might have ended for now, but the game was far from over.