The corridor sealed behind her with a steady grind of stone. Shizume didn’t look back. One Inquisitor stood directly in front of her, five steps away. Another stood to her right, angled so he could see both her and his partner. The third presence pressed against her awareness behind her left shoulder, unseen. The space was wide and bare. No pillars. No shadow deep enough to use. The Inquisitor in front stepped forward. The one on her right adjusted at the same time.

  Shizume moved first. She crossed the distance before the man in front finished lifting his guard. Her blade flashed toward his throat. Her Kaijin tightened around her body. Sound dulled near her. Her steps softened. The scrape of steel lost its edge. At the same time, perception shifted. The Inquisitor saw her a half step farther back than she was. His guard rose too early. Her blade slipped under it and cut across his collar. Blood surfaced. She flowed through the strike and turned toward the Inquisitor on her right. He reacted late. Her movement didn’t land where his eyes said it would.

  She cut low. Her blade sank into his thigh. He staggered. She was already moving again. The third Inquisitor stepped in from behind her left. She didn’t hear him clearly. The sound around her blurred direction, not erased, just softened. Steel cut across her ribs. She twisted away before the strike could go deep. They advanced together now. Their Kaijin was active. She could feel it. It didn’t bend space. It linked them. When one misread her movement, the others corrected immediately. When sound dulled, they relied on shared timing instead of reaction.

  She attacked again. Her Kaijin pulled tight around her, distorting the way the man in front read her shoulders. He expected her to step left. She stepped right. Her blade cut across his jaw. Blood ran down his neck. She pivoted instantly and drove toward the one on her right. Her dagger rose toward his throat. The third Inquisitor stepped between them. Her blade struck armor. Their spacing never collapsed. She tried to disengage. The third closed the route behind her. Steel tore across her shoulder. Pain burned down her arm.

  “You’re quick,” the one on her right muttered, blood soaking into his leg. “That’s not enough.”

  She pressed forward again. Her Kaijin pulsed outward unevenly. One moment it wrapped tight, narrowing perception in a small radius. The next it expanded outward, heavy and unstable. It had been shifting since Raizō. Being near him had changed something. His presence carried weight and certainty. Now, her Kaijin couldn’t decide whether it wanted to disappear or press outward. It wasn’t steady. She lunged at the man in front. Sound dulled sharply as she entered his reach. He stabbed toward where he thought she was. He missed. She cut deep across his neck. The wound was serious. He didn’t fall. The Inquisitor on her right drove his blade into her side before she could withdraw. The third cut across her back. She staggered. Blood soaked through her clothing from three wounds now.

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  They didn’t chase her retreat. They stepped forward together, keeping the distance even. Every time her Kaijin bent perception, they paused just long enough to confirm each other’s position. Her Kaijin forced caution. Their Kaijin erased any advantages. Every time it weakened, they advanced. She attacked again, chaining fast strikes toward the Inquisitor on her right. The first two forced him back. The third almost broke through. The inquisitor in front cut into her thigh mid-motion. Her leg faltered. Speed meant nothing without balance.

  “You don’t even know what you are,” the one in front said, blood still running down his neck.

  Shizume forced herself upright. Her breathing was heavier now. Her left arm trembled. Her Kaijin surged violently. Perception twisted hard around her for a heartbeat. All three hesitated. She drove forward recklessly. Her blade buried into the side of the inquisitor in front. Deep. The third Inquisitor stepped fully into view and cut across her collarbone as she withdrew.

  Pain exploded through her upper body. Her vision narrowed. The dulling of sound became inconsistent. One step vanished completely. The next echoed faintly. The distortion of perception flickered. Sometimes it bent sharply. Sometimes it barely shifted at all. The Inquisitors adapted. When the distortion surged, they slowed. When it thinned, they pressed. They didn’t try to match her pace. They forced the fight to stay even. She managed one more cut across the face of the Inquisitor on her right. They answered with three clean strikes.

  One across her ribs, her thigh, and her back. Blood ran freely now. Her movements slowed. Her Kaijin no longer wrapped tight around her. It pressed outward heavily, distorting the space around all three instead of slipping between them. It was becoming something else. But it wasn’t finished. The Inquisitor in front stepped toward her again, wounded but steady.

  “You’re not quiet enough,” he said. “And you’re not strong enough.”

  They closed in together. And this time, she didn’t try to slip past them. She wasn’t disappearing anymore. She met them directly. And that terrified her more than anything she’s ever faced.