Her hand closed on his shoulder. Her fingers wrapping around the joint until it shattered.
"Found you," she breathed.
Hoshimi twisted.
[What the hell is her ability!?]
Not trying to break her grip. He was using the momentum of her hold against her, rotating his body in a way that dislocated his own shoulder and forced her to adjust.
He drove his elbow backward.
It connected with something solid. Her ribs, maybe. Her solar plexus. He couldn't see, couldn't aim, just struck blindly at the space where she had to be. The impact jarred up his arm, sent pain shooting through his funny bone, but he felt her grip loosen, felt her body shift to absorb the blow.
He pulled free.
[Damn it, it hurts. But I can't heal my shoulder. Or the brief flash of mana will give away my location. I'm assuming that the move that gives her absurd speed needs some charging time. Or else she would've attacked me every time I struck her]
The flour cloud was settling now, revealing the alley in patches of white and gray. Jiyeon stood a few feet away. Her gray eyes were fixed on the space where he'd been.
"You can't keep this up forever." Her legs remained planted on the floor.
A flash of mana.
Jiyeon's hand moved.
It was in one position and then in another.
But she didn't feel any tension in her strike.
Her eyes widened.
[A feint]
A large gash ran across her back, blood gushed out of the wound.
But she didn't flinch.
Her fingers grabbed onto his wrist tightly.
"Damn it!"
The bones in Hoshimi's wrists shattered like dry twigs.
He felt each fragment separate, felt the sharp, bright pain of splintered radius and ulna grinding against each other as Jiyeon's grip tightened. His fingers went numb. His hands, his steady hands that never trembled, became useless things at the ends of his arms.
His jaw clenched so tight he felt his molars creak. Blood dripped from his palms where the bone fragments had pierced the skin, hot and wet against the cold flour dust that coated everything.
He blinked.
Then came a scorching sensation, right around his stomach.
It was in an instant when she had thrusted her hand inside his gut.
[She isn't moving her legs]
The scorching sensation spread through Hoshimi's abdomen like wildfire, a white-hot agony that blotted out thought and breath and everything except the raw, animal awareness of wrongness. Jiyeon's fingers had punched through skin and muscle, curling around something vital, something that pulsed against her palm with the desperate rhythm of survival.
Her gray eyes were inches from his face. Close enough to see the faint lines at their corners, the exhaustion that lived beneath the stillness, the absolute, unwavering focus of a predator who had finally run its prey to ground. Her breath was warm against his cheek, carrying the faint scent of mint and iron.
Hoshimi's invisibility shattered.
The mana required to maintain it drained away, redirected to the desperate task of keeping him conscious, keeping him alive. His body flickered back into visibility, pale and bloodied, his violet eyes wide with pain.
[A feint within a feint. She let me hit her. She wanted me to commit to the strike so she could grab me.]
His vision blurred at the edges. The pain in his abdomen was spreading, radiating outward through his chest, his spine, his legs. He could feel her fingers inside him, could feel the delicate tissues parting around her knuckles, could feel his own blood pooling in the cavity she'd created.
His other hand came up.
The flour that coated his palm, the fine white powder that Jiyeon had been using to track him, caught the gray afternoon light as he blew it directly into her face.
Jiyeon's eyes reflexively closed.
Just for a fraction of a second. Just long enough.
Hoshimi's knee drove upward.
Not at her stomach. Not at her chest. At the inside of her elbow, the soft tissue where her arm bent, where the tendons and ligaments ran close to the surface. The joint hyperextended with a wet, grinding pop.
Jiyeon's grip loosened.
He pulled free, stumbling backward, one hand pressed against the gaping wound in his abdomen. Blood poured between his fingers, hot and dark, splashing against the grimy alley floor.
[Damn it, it hurts so bad, I can-can't even think properly]
His vision was going gray at the edges, the world narrowing to a tunnel of pain and survival and the desperate need to think.
[Her speed. It's not constant. She can move from one position to another without crossing the space between, but she can't sustain it. There's a delay.]
[That's the opening. That's the weakness.]
Jiyeon straightened, rolling her shoulder, testing the joint he'd hyperextended. Her expression hadn't changed, that same gray stillness, that same absolute calm. But there was something new in her eyes now.
"Vitae Core."
Her back stitched itself back together.
Hoshimi pressed his back against the cold brick wall, his chest heaving, his hand still clamped over the wound in his abdomen. The flour cloud was settling now, revealing the alley in patches of white and gray.
She lunged.
He barely dove under her strike, felt her fingers brush against his hair, and rolled to his feet behind her.
Neila snapped her fingers.
The sonic needle caught Jiyeon in the shoulder, punching through muscle and glancing off bone. Blood sprayed across the alley in a fine mist, hot and dark, and Jiyeon's grip on his wrist loosened.
Just enough.
Hoshimi pulled free.
He stumbled backward, gasping, his entire body throbbing, his vision swimming, he grasped the wound on his stomach, his throat burnt of a bitter and metallic aftertaste.
"Vitae Core."
[I'm not winning in a head on match, all I can do are sneak attacks. But eventually I'll run out of tricks. I can't think of anything. My head hurts, my entire body hurts. This is why I never wanted to fight in first place]
Jiyeon touched her shoulder. Looked at the blood on her fingers. Her expression didn't change, that same gray stillness, that same absolute calm.
"Shaw," she said.
"Shut up peasant, I don't want to listen to your voice." Neila's voice was hoarse, but her smile was sharp. "I hate how you sound."
Jiyeon's head turned toward her.
Hoshimi moved.
Not for the sword. For Kira.
[Neila probably already figured it out. But I'm guessing her ability allows her to enter a state of mind that enhances her reflexes and slows down time around her. But there is definitely a caveat, I need to test my hypothesis]
He grabbed her arm and pulled her deeper into the alley, away from the fight, away from Jiyeon's immediate reach. She stumbled after him, her face pale, her eyes too wide, her breathing too fast.
"I can't—" she gasped. "I can't do this. I can't—"
"You can." He pressed her against the wall, his hands on her shoulders, his violet eyes meeting hers. "Listen to me. What I'm guessing is that her technique. It costs her. Since she moves way faster than us, her bodily functions must be faster as well, she has to breathe more than we do. More than normal. If we can force her to exert herself, to keep using it, she'll run out of stamina before we run out of options."
"Options? What options?"
"Your ability." His grip tightened. "Carbon monoxide. It binds to hemoglobin faster than oxygen. If we can get her into an enclosed space, somewhere the gas can concentrate, we can force her to breathe it in. The moment before it seems like she might use her ability, I need you to release your ability for a split second."
Kira stared at him. Her breathing was still too fast, too shallow, but something was shifting behind her eyes.
"That seems really risky. What if I fail?"
"You won't. But if you don't help us then we might all die."
"But—" Her voice cracked.
"I trust you." He released her shoulders.
"And if she doesn't stay in the alley?"
"She will." His violet eyes met hers. "Because I'll be in there with her. And she wants me."
Kira swallowed. Nodded. Her hands were shaking, but her jaw was set, her eyes were clear.
"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. I can do this. I can—I can be useful. I can help."
"You already are."