[ He hangs back on a rooftop, drinking it all in. Her speed, her footwork, her ferocity. Near-perfect -- but not yet there, which makes it all the more maddening. He can't get by on a thin gruel of substitutions when he's experienced the full feast of bloodlust and hatred. It just makes the wait longer, the yearning worse. ]
[ When the ghoul corners her, he waits for her attack. Any minute now, she'll cut him down. ]
[ But. ]
[ Wait. ]
[ Before he knows it, he's let fly a barrage of red spikes at her attacker. Whether they hit or not is irrelevant. He just wants to shake her from her torpor. ]
action;
[ When the ghoul corners her, he waits for her attack. Any minute now, she'll cut him down. ]
[ But. ]
[ Wait. ]
[ Before he knows it, he's let fly a barrage of red spikes at her attacker. Whether they hit or not is irrelevant. He just wants to shake her from her torpor. ]
Don't get distracted, Saya.