Motoko looked towards Keitaro sitting on the sofa, twirling between his fingers what seemed to be a shiny strip of metal. It was long and it was flat, so flat that Motoko sensed that it was sharp. However, what was odd with the metal was that one of the edges was exceptionally shiny. Motoko briefly wondered what the thing was, but she didn't really care, as she was too busy thinking about how she should attack Keitaro when he next showed his perverted tendencies for maximum damage to everything, including the dormitory.
Suddenly, there was a metallic twang and she froze as she felt the strip stick out of the wall right in front of her. It was nothing short of perfect skill, as the strip was flung at such an exact timing that it lodged in the wall right in front of her. If she closed her eyes, her eyelashes would brush right against the smooth, unmarked metal. A split second later, the strip turned until its unusually shiny edge was in front of her eyes, and for a horrible moment as it started to move Motoko thought that the strip would lash out and slash her eyes. It didn't, however, and it flew right out of the wall to whence it came from.
She turned towards Keitaro, and this time, the metal strip flew at her again, this time slashing open her cheek. This attack was also incredibly controlled, as the cut was so, so thin that even under close scrutiny no one would ever notice it existed. Only she herself, as it was her very own skin, would know that there was a wound. As she stood there, the blade right beside her, she felt the edges of the impossibly thin layer of cut skin curl away from the blade, as though it was afraid of touching it. Once more, the blade retreated, this time with a flash of light.
She turned towards Keitaro and drew her sword to parry as the blade once more came at her. It was deflected, but at the cost of a severe notch in her own blade.
As she lowered her sword and gazed upon the notch in horror, she noticed that something was very, very wrong.
For upon the sword there was blood. Fresh, red blood.
She looked up right at Keitaro. His bangs partially covered his face, but through them she could see his eyes. They were glowing a deep, dark red.
She stared at his hands. In his right was the blade, and she was shocked that it was covered in the same blood left on her blade. There was no denying it. Somehow, as she looked at the blood on his hand and sword, followed by the blood on her own sword, she made the connection and realized the origin of the blood on her very own blade. She wasn't terribly surprised as it was, however, since she knew instinctively that no one could ever hold that hilt-less sword without sustaining some form of injury.
Keitaro stared at her. She felt weird under that intense gaze, with the glowing eyes making her feel disconcerted. She did however, shake it off, and when she recovered enough she charged towards Keitaro, who simply stood and stared. She swung forward, but suddenly the man simple vanishes. She felt a presence behind her, and she spun on her heels to face her attacker, but there was none. She barely managed to dodge as the blade came slicing at her neck. Apparently, the slick manager had merely tricked her into thinking that he was behind her.
Suddenly, a dark voice boomed out.
"OVER SOUL! KEITARO URASHIMA IN METAL AND IN BLOOD!"
All of a sudden, Motoko was blasted back away from the figure standing before her. His furyoku rolled off him in waves, hitting and destroying whatever was in its way. The furyoku swarmed all around her, and as she tried to swing her sword the furyoku condensed into chains and snatched her sword up and out of her hands; before other chains came and slammed her to the floor. She watched in horror as the furyoku suddenly became visible; misty white hands gripped on both ends of her blade and snapped it in half. There was a deafening twang as the sword hit the ground. The furyoku around her disappeared with a whoosh.
As she stared at her sword, she could feel the blood flowing freely from the cuts all around her; they were the result of the chains that had gripped her. As it was however, she could not feel them. She was numb from the pain at the loss of her beloved sword.
She glanced up at the being, and was nearly blinded.
For in the middle of the room stood a red figure. She wasn't sure what it resembled, for it seemed to be nothing more than a glowing red mist. It was glowing with such intensity that tears flowed out of her eyes, blurring her vision. Somehow, even though the figure was just an intangible red mist, she could feel its sharpness, as though it once been the blade that had initially struck her, except in and an even more horrifying form.
The mist started to move closer towards her, and she knew that if the mist enveloped her she would die.