Heikō Mu.

The air was still heavy with the residue of Heikō's battle with Bellum, the God of War, as he stood amidst the fractured remnants of the battlefield. The echoes of clashing steel and the roar of unleashed powers still reverberated through the cracked sky, and Heikō's senses remained alert, his adrenaline not yet fading. Though he emerged victorious over Bellum, he felt a deeper unease stir within him—a sense that this conflict was far from over.

Suddenly, the air changed—a palpable shift in the atmosphere, as if the world itself held its breath. In a blur of lightning and storm winds, Susanoo-no-Mikoto, God of Rebellion and Chaos, descended with the fury of a god long deprived of vengeance. In a flash, Susanoo's blade—crackling with electric rage—tore through the air and struck true. Heikō felt a sharp, unnatural detachment as his arm was severed at the shoulder. The bloodless wound, clean and precise, pulsed with a sensation of absence rather than pain.

Heikō's eyes widened—not in pain, but in shock and fury. His severed limb fell to the ground, dissolving before it even touched the earth. Without hesitation, Heikō's body regenerated instantly, muscle and sinew weaving together as if time itself obeyed his will. Yet the affront remained, the very audacity of Susanoo's surprise attack igniting a cold fury within Heikō's chest.

For the first time in centuries, Heikō Mu was truly angry.

Susanoo stood defiantly, a savage grin splitting his face. The god of storms had sensed an opening, a crack in the impenetrable armor of Heikō's calm, and he had seized it. "Do you see, Heikō?" Susanoo's voice was thick with arrogance, his eyes wild with rebellious zeal. "I have grown stronger! Even you can be wounded!"

Heikō's gaze was unwavering, his face a mask of serene fury. He could feel the difference—Susanoo had grown stronger, more fierce, more desperate in his quest to surpass the God of Shinobi. Yet, even in his heightened state, Susanoo remained beneath him—like a storm battering against a mountain that would never fall.

"I commend your resolve," Heikō said softly, his voice as sharp and cold as a blade. "But you still do not understand."

He moved. It was a single step—a shift in the air that carried the weight of inevitability. Before Susanoo could even register the movement, Heikō struck. A flurry of blows rained down upon the rebellious god, each strike a precision of power and technique, every movement guided by centuries of mastery. Susanoo's defenses shattered like glass, his once-impressive strength crumbling beneath the storm of Heikō's fury.

Lightning crackled and wind howled as Susanoo was driven to his knees, battered and bleeding. Heikō's movements were fluid, his attacks a seamless blend of every shinobi art, from ancient martial forms to techniques known only to the gods. He did not allow Susanoo even a breath, forcing the god of storms to taste the bitter edge of defeat once more.

But this time, a simple beating would not be enough. Heikō's patience had reached its end. Susanoo had to learn—a lesson that would be seared into the very core of his existence.

Heikō's hands blurred as he began a sequence of hand signs. His fingers moved with a practiced grace, each gesture imbued with the power of a god who had mastered every shinobi technique known and unknown. The air around him began to hum with an otherworldly energy, the fabric of reality itself responding to the rhythm of his movements.

Mirror – Palms faced each other, fingers slightly curved inward, symbolizing a reflective barrier. A glimmering, translucent mirror formed between them, reflecting the fractured expression of Susanoo, who was now caught in the mirrored surface.

Infinity – Thumbs and middle fingers interlocked in a continuous loop, representing infinite space. The mirror seemed to stretch, expanding in all directions, becoming a boundless reflection of endless potential—a dimension beyond dimensions.

Compass – Index fingers crossed to form a "plus" sign, defining the dimensions of the space. Lines of light shot out from the mirror, intersecting to create a lattice of boundaries, as if charting a course through the cosmos itself.

Web – Fingers spread and overlapped slightly, symbolizing the weaving of the dimension's fabric. Threads of energy wove themselves between the boundaries, a cosmic web that shimmered with the power of a thousand stars.

Susanoo's rage flared as he saw the trap forming around him. He summoned the storm, winds whipping and lightning flashing as he launched himself at Heikō, desperate to break free. But Heikō was already a step ahead, his fingers continuing their inexorable dance.

Void – Hands came together, palms flat with thumbs touching, forming a closed door. A dark void opened behind Susanoo, swallowing the raging storm and leaving a profound silence in its wake.

Vortex – Rotating his interlocked fingers in a circular motion, Heikō simulated a spiraling portal, drawing Susanoo into the whirling darkness. The rebellious god fought against the pull, but it was as if the very universe had turned against him.

Anchor – One hand formed a downward-pointing fist, the other clenched over it, locking the space in place. Susanoo's movements slowed, his body becoming heavy, as if the very gravity of existence had been turned against him.

Key – Index and middle fingers extended upward, forming a "key" gesture to seal the lock. A symbol of pure energy ignited in the air before Heikō, glowing with the authority of a god who commanded reality itself.

Seal – Palms faced forward with thumbs touching, creating a triangular barrier. The world around them warped, space folding in on itself as Susanoo's form began to fade into the sealed dimension.

Collapse – Hands closed into fists, simulating the folding of reality into the pocket dimension. The swirling energies compressed into a single, crystalline form—a pocket dimension crafted by Heikō's will alone.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Heikō clapped his hands, the sound resonating like the tolling of a divine bell. Then, with a graceful movement, he slowly pulled them apart as if drawing a curtain, revealing the sealed pocket dimension that now held Susanoo captive.

"By thread and space, I weave this bound, a realm confined, your form unwound."

His voice was calm, each word a command that rippled through the air, enforcing the boundaries of the seal. Susanoo's form was pulled inward, his power muted, his defiance snuffed out as the pocket dimension solidified, shimmering in Heikō's grasp.

Heikō stood there, the weight of his decision settling upon him. In his hand was a small, translucent crystal, glowing faintly with the stormy essence of Susanoo's power. It was done—Susanoo had been sealed, contained in a prison of Heikō's making.

Yet, Heikō felt no triumph, no satisfaction. The act had been necessary, but he knew that this would not end Susanoo's rebellion. The god of storms would return, stronger and more determined than ever. Heikō's gaze hardened, and he placed the sealed crystal into a fold of his robes.

The lesson had been taught, but it remained to be seen if it would be learned. For now, Susanoo's fury would simmer in the depths of the pocket dimension, a storm contained but not quelled.

Heikō turned and walked away, leaving the battlefield behind him. He had no time for regret, no space for doubt. The realm of the shinobi demanded his attention, and there were battles yet to be fought—against enemies both without and within.