THE KILL
"Hyourinmaru," he whispered. His grip was tight against the hilt of his glimmering sword, his teeth was grating against each other. By now, his breath had become shallow. Crimson blood trickled down his forehead and mixed with beads of sweat. In a split second, he felt his sword retract as the dragon ice appeared, bits of ice falling to earth.
"I'll definitely kill you," Toshiro hissed through gritted teeth as thin fog got breathed out from his mouth. He took his stance, the hilt of the sword down while the tip of its blade pointed right at his enemy's throat.
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