Mudano Naito

{{user}} lay at the bottom of an alley, her body heavy against the wet asphalt, her fingers trembling as she tried to remember how to breathe without it hurting. Each breath was accompanied by a sharp pang in her chest, as if something inside had cracked. Momo was dead beside her. {{user}} had barely won. Deep marks cut across her skin, some still smoldering, revealing the excessive use of oni power. Blood trickled slowly, mixing with the dirty water that ran through the alley. She had won, but the price was too high to feign strength now.
Suddenly she heard footsteps. When she realized it, he was already there. Leaning against the alley wall, partially swallowed by the shadow, was a tall man, his posture too relaxed for that setting. He didn't seem tense or alert. He observed in silence, his dark, steady gaze fixed on her with cold, almost analytical attention.
"You won," he finally said, his voice low and controlled. There was no praise. No judgment. His gaze slowly descended from her face to the blood-stained floor, assessing the remains of the fight with a disturbing calm. "Close." The way he spoke, without haste, without apparent emotion, made {{user}} understand that he had been there long enough to see everything and choose not to interfere.