Mitsuhide isn’t agreeing to the battle’s redirection.
And Xu Shu’s speaking, moving. Maybe not acting with his characteristic swiftness (maybe not acting with something more than that; hadn’t Daud caught a glimpse of the man moving impossibly fast?), but acting. Not stalled wholly in time. Fuck. Fuck. He’ll— He’ll keep the power in place for now. Let it last until he’s attempted a strike against Mitsuhide. Then he’ll have to release time to its typical flow, have to make sure he isn’t hindering Xu Shu’s capacity to dodge an attack if need be.
He should have struck from the start. Shouldn’t have bothered speaking to the bastard, because what, what was he thinking, imagining that he could predict what Mitsuhide might do? Daud’s seen enough of the man to know his logic runs along its own tracks. All he’s done in announcing his presence has been to waste time and opportunity. All he’s done is fucking erred.
No time to dwell on that now, though. Nor to dwell on Mitsuhide’s words, his declarations regarding Xu Shu. ’The meal I’m sharing,’ what kind of Void-forsaken nonsense is that? And the rest… The rest is precisely what Daud expected. It’s no surprise that the bastard wants to carve Xu Shu apart. The surprise (no, it’s only half a surprise, given what he’s long known about Xu Shu) is that Xu Shu should have invited a scenario in which the odds of destruction were so high.
Damn the boy. Again, again, damn the boy, and damn the man and his scythe most of all. Blame himself most of all, for not having acted sooner. None of this should ever have happened.
The rest of Mitsuhide’s speech is nonsense. Or it’s a sense for another time, something to be sorted far from this place and once the bastard’s heart’s through with beating. Never mind MItsuhide’s insistence that this isn’t the right place, never mind his mad fucking idea that this is some, some ritual, some occasion to be shared with Xu Shu alone. Never mind the ’you made him bleed,’ this obsession with smiles.
And never mind Xu Shu’s talk of Shan Fu. Never mind the ways that doesn’t bode well, can only herald damage. If Daud can end this before Xu Shu (‘Shan Fu,’ by the fucking Void) attacks and can be attacked again. If only he can end this, there’ll be time for reflecting on the rest later. Or burying it deep beneath forgetting.
Xu Shu’s moving. The foolish boy’s moving, and it’s now or—
His fist clenches. The air goes electric. And Daud vanishes, reappearing in the instant behind MItsuhide, already moving his blade. (It feels good to travel like that again. Feels natural to transverse space so smoothly, for the Void's to spark through his nerves, his veins, and for a split moment he wonders whether he should ever have given this up. Whether he’s been denying some necessary part of himself all along.)
Daud’s intent is to slice Mitsuhide’s throat clean through, down to the and beyond the spine. As a back-up plan, he’ll stab the bastard through the base of the neck. And if Mitsuhide’s movements make both attacks impossible, he’ll improvise.
He's long, long been skilled with improvisation. ]
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Mitsuhide isn’t agreeing to the battle’s redirection.
And Xu Shu’s speaking, moving. Maybe not acting with his characteristic swiftness (maybe not acting with something more than that; hadn’t Daud caught a glimpse of the man moving impossibly fast?), but acting. Not stalled wholly in time. Fuck. Fuck. He’ll— He’ll keep the power in place for now. Let it last until he’s attempted a strike against Mitsuhide. Then he’ll have to release time to its typical flow, have to make sure he isn’t hindering Xu Shu’s capacity to dodge an attack if need be.
He should have struck from the start. Shouldn’t have bothered speaking to the bastard, because what, what was he thinking, imagining that he could predict what Mitsuhide might do? Daud’s seen enough of the man to know his logic runs along its own tracks. All he’s done in announcing his presence has been to waste time and opportunity. All he’s done is fucking erred.
No time to dwell on that now, though. Nor to dwell on Mitsuhide’s words, his declarations regarding Xu Shu. ’The meal I’m sharing,’ what kind of Void-forsaken nonsense is that? And the rest… The rest is precisely what Daud expected. It’s no surprise that the bastard wants to carve Xu Shu apart. The surprise (no, it’s only half a surprise, given what he’s long known about Xu Shu) is that Xu Shu should have invited a scenario in which the odds of destruction were so high.
Damn the boy. Again, again, damn the boy, and damn the man and his scythe most of all. Blame himself most of all, for not having acted sooner. None of this should ever have happened.
The rest of Mitsuhide’s speech is nonsense. Or it’s a sense for another time, something to be sorted far from this place and once the bastard’s heart’s through with beating. Never mind MItsuhide’s insistence that this isn’t the right place, never mind his mad fucking idea that this is some, some ritual, some occasion to be shared with Xu Shu alone. Never mind the ’you made him bleed,’ this obsession with smiles.
And never mind Xu Shu’s talk of Shan Fu. Never mind the ways that doesn’t bode well, can only herald damage. If Daud can end this before Xu Shu (‘Shan Fu,’ by the fucking Void) attacks and can be attacked again. If only he can end this, there’ll be time for reflecting on the rest later. Or burying it deep beneath forgetting.
Xu Shu’s moving. The foolish boy’s moving, and it’s now or—
His fist clenches. The air goes electric. And Daud vanishes, reappearing in the instant behind MItsuhide, already moving his blade. (It feels good to travel like that again. Feels natural to transverse space so smoothly, for the Void's to spark through his nerves, his veins, and for a split moment he wonders whether he should ever have given this up. Whether he’s been denying some necessary part of himself all along.)
Daud’s intent is to slice Mitsuhide’s throat clean through, down to the and beyond the spine. As a back-up plan, he’ll stab the bastard through the base of the neck. And if Mitsuhide’s movements make both attacks impossible, he’ll improvise.
He's long, long been skilled with improvisation. ]