( when you and your fairly unacquainted bro have comparable fighting techniques...
but as a fine mist of blood and water blows past them in the air, izou's feet comply with the shouted command faster than his mouth can give a reflexive shout of disapproval for being told what to do, the grip on his blade growing a bit difficult with his palms so stressed from the elements boring down on them. still, a murderer who walked the streets alone at night working with strangers is something he should be used to at this point, given he's been doing it for years now in death.
the beast sent in his direction stumbles, clad in the crimson of a previous strike, and izou ducks in low and deep with his next step, thrusting his weapon upwards to catch the swipe of its claws before it can strike him down. shit. the enormous power behind these blows even with their small size is nothing to sneeze at. if this were land and there was mud beneath his feet, it would've definitely thrown him backwards.
he grits his teeth, the dark locks of his hair furling in the wind. steels himself, and then—
it's a blood-curling scream that follows as izou delivers a second strike to the head, intended to kill, the fate of his enemies carved into the steel itself: heaven's wrath.
it still isn't enough to down this particular remnant of the larger shachimon, though, and it reels back before flinging its tail in an attempt to strike all those nearby. )
no subject
but as a fine mist of blood and water blows past them in the air, izou's feet comply with the shouted command faster than his mouth can give a reflexive shout of disapproval for being told what to do, the grip on his blade growing a bit difficult with his palms so stressed from the elements boring down on them. still, a murderer who walked the streets alone at night working with strangers is something he should be used to at this point, given he's been doing it for years now in death.
the beast sent in his direction stumbles, clad in the crimson of a previous strike, and izou ducks in low and deep with his next step, thrusting his weapon upwards to catch the swipe of its claws before it can strike him down. shit. the enormous power behind these blows even with their small size is nothing to sneeze at. if this were land and there was mud beneath his feet, it would've definitely thrown him backwards.
he grits his teeth, the dark locks of his hair furling in the wind. steels himself, and then—
it's a blood-curling scream that follows as izou delivers a second strike to the head, intended to kill, the fate of his enemies carved into the steel itself: heaven's wrath.
it still isn't enough to down this particular remnant of the larger shachimon, though, and it reels back before flinging its tail in an attempt to strike all those nearby. )