Knives spun through the snow. Kika's crimson fangs gleamed, matching the scarlet-stained flakes. Her pulse thundered with wild anticipation—an addictive hunger tearing through her veins.
Every clash set her blood ablaze; every fight became a desperate, beautiful gamble she ached to win.
As Asahi approached, Kika ran her tongue along her blades and tossed them with a reckless grin, desperate to stake her worth on violence.
"How fascinating. It seems your battle hasn't roused me yet."
Kika seized her blades in a flash, heart pounding too violently to allow the stillness. She bared her teeth at Asahi, voice raw and biting: "What are you doing here? Can't you see my knives are hungry for blood?"
Asahi met her blow for blow, parrying each strike with determination born from loss. The Sword of Eventide carved arcs, slicing between flying knives.
