[It's clear enough that Shinpachi doesn't want to hurt Chizuru. Kazama could use her as a shield - shift so that she's in the path of his blade so that his opponent will have to hesitate - but such a tactic is beneath him; even if this man is a rasetsu now, he is a demon. He needs no sneaky tricks to overcome him. His own strength is more than enough.
...and yet. Shinpachi's strikes drive him back - clearly he won't be able to do this one-handed any longer. He drops Chizuru unceremoniously and she slumps over on the ground, winded. As she looks up, Kazama starts swinging his sword to fight back against Shinpachi's strikes.
Her stomach nearly drops out as she watches them. Shinpachi, his hair white like snow and eyes red like blood, facing down Kazama, who had laid waist to him moments before and would do it again, if he could. She's terrified for his sake - not just because he might lose his life, but even if he lives... he's become one of the creatures he was so against creating. How can she ever make up for the fact that he had to go so far just to save her?
He's outright said it, "The one who's gonna take care of her is me," and that knowledge cuts like a knife.
She was supposed to protect him, but right now he and Kazama are locked in a battle of whirling blades and she can barely muster up the strength to sit up.
There is the clash of metal on metal and the horrifying sound of swords biting into flesh. Kazama grits his teeth, but doesn't falter in his return strikes, the cut skin already beginning to knit itself back together even as his own blood runs down his arm in rivulets. It's galling, for Shinpachi to have landed a blow not once but twice.]
You won't be taking care of anyone, [He snarls as he brings his arm back to prepare for another lunge.] Unless you're doing it from beyond the grave!
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...and yet. Shinpachi's strikes drive him back - clearly he won't be able to do this one-handed any longer. He drops Chizuru unceremoniously and she slumps over on the ground, winded. As she looks up, Kazama starts swinging his sword to fight back against Shinpachi's strikes.
Her stomach nearly drops out as she watches them. Shinpachi, his hair white like snow and eyes red like blood, facing down Kazama, who had laid waist to him moments before and would do it again, if he could. She's terrified for his sake - not just because he might lose his life, but even if he lives... he's become one of the creatures he was so against creating. How can she ever make up for the fact that he had to go so far just to save her?
He's outright said it, "The one who's gonna take care of her is me," and that knowledge cuts like a knife.
She was supposed to protect him, but right now he and Kazama are locked in a battle of whirling blades and she can barely muster up the strength to sit up.
There is the clash of metal on metal and the horrifying sound of swords biting into flesh. Kazama grits his teeth, but doesn't falter in his return strikes, the cut skin already beginning to knit itself back together even as his own blood runs down his arm in rivulets. It's galling, for Shinpachi to have landed a blow not once but twice.]
You won't be taking care of anyone, [He snarls as he brings his arm back to prepare for another lunge.] Unless you're doing it from beyond the grave!