Between the trees (echoing in elongated ripples of bemused gasps) came the seemingly never-ending cycle of hysteric laughter. At first it had come as a surprise even to Misaki, although after a short while of this her lungs ached and her entire midsection begged for release from the confines of its invisible prison (particularly in the region where she supposed her either cracked or broken rib was situated). Yet, even once the novelty of the question- the foolish, foolish question- had effectively worn thin, still the expression continued. She fought her own reflex in an attempt to catch her breath, the coy smile refusing to fall away even at her own will and beckoning.

Still, there was an inarguable convenience to her reaction that Misaki could not have premeditated. Standing above her with his head cocked curiously to one side was Illumi, who had not further motioned to proceed with any sort of fatal advance. While she was uncertain whether her laughter had confused and thrown him off guard or if he was simply confident in his ability to draw the answers he sought from her lips before ultimately issuing her demise, one thing was definite.

She had somehow managed to buy herself some time.

Not willing to take even a second of this miraculous gift for granted, the girl's mind raced to analyze her situation thoroughly enough to find a reasonable solution. There was no time to waste on hasty panicking or any other sort of involuntary response to trauma. Control was the culprit all along and now was the appropriate circumstance for her to exercise it without Illumi's insistent interference.

"That boy… is nothing to me," she chuckled, opting to use the dreaded technique of chatter amidst combat to her advantage.

…But how could she possibly dislodge the array of needles to free her arms without the risk of tearing through tissues? If that was the case, she would almost certainly bleed out profusely, and a time limit would be imposed upon her ability to take him down at the definite expense of her life.

Not that she was particularly concerned about dying; not exactly. Even in her thirst for revenge and freedom was the underlying notion that if she should die in combat, it ought to be with Illumi, and if she could manage to kill him before she fell, all the better.

'We'll die here together, you son of a bitch,' she vowed between other more rational thoughts, and was careful to ensure that she had held eye contact- looking at and through him- as she mentally said so.

"All this time you've watched… and not really seen," she said, ever so slowly unfolding her palm in preparation for the strike. "I always consid-…"

Purposely seizing the opportunity to use the element of surprise, Misaki's umbrella obediently swooped toward her open hand. Unfortunately for her, Illumi had fallen for such a trick earlier in the battle, and was not one to be so easily fooled by such uncreative use of skill. He dropped backward in an instant, catching the bulk of his weight in his hands and arms as his back arched and formed an inverted "U".

Still, the situation was not hopeless. In order for Illumi to avoid the attack with this method, he had no choice but to position the majority of his body over Misaki's completely free legs and feet. With a partial application of aura, the girl bent back her boot enough to execute a swift kick to his spine with the ball of her foot.

Upon contact there was a wonderfully gratifying, splitting sort of sound, and his body jerked and even lifted off the ground entirely from the sheer force of the attack. Even so, Illumi had apparently foreseen the possibility of this scenario with frighteningly rapid clarity, as he had likewise protected the exposed area through Ko before the girl had managed to land her hit. In a slightly less than elegant display, he redirected his fall rearwards while still in midair and landed on his feet, borrowing a brief moment to readjust his spine manually to a chorus of cracking bones and squishy, shifting muscle tissue.

The very idea that Illumi was willing to take his time enough to fix himself up awakened both a violent rage and painful realization in Misaki. She understood better than ever that now…even still… he was not taking her seriously. This battle was not a life or death possibility to him, but rather a mild inconvenience… more akin to something like a mosquito bite than a guillotine. He could kill her now, he could at least try. Nevertheless he was clearly biding his time for a while under the impression that she was not any real threat or challenge to him. She was a simple puppet that he was willing to let dance without her strings for brief period of time until it was decided that he needed her again.

Swallowing her anger, pride, and any sort of hesitance that had previously hindered her performance, Misaki felt the adrenaline claim her wholly.

'No more warnings… no more games...'

Opening her parasol, she hooked the arced claws of the umbrella frame below the decorative knobs of the pins which restricted her opposite arm, heaving the contraption by the handle with a persistent twist of the wrist. The needles came free, and without bothering to care whether or not Illumi had managed to either pick up those three pins he had been forced to drop previously in order to evade or had perhaps even drawn out more, she repeated the process on her right arm. Through her callousness, she did not notice the trickling of blood and the shredded chunk of skin and tissue which hung limply from her right bicep as a result of her blinded hastiness.

Rocking backwards, she used the subsequent forward momentum to launch her onto her feet once more, digging the grips of her soles into the dirt to assist her balance while she suffered the typical effects of rushing blood suddenly descending her body once more. Even amidst the duration of her tinted vision, Misaki collapsed the umbrella and charged at the silhouette before her, hoping with everything she had that he might be just arrogant enough to withhold his own offense until she nearly reached him.

Her wish was (to her good fortune) granted, and as the girl finally stepped within the final meter of the gap which separated them, Illumi dodged and stabbed at the girl's open and vulnerable left side with the aura-enhanced heel of his hand. Misaki was thrilled at his response, both since it was more or less the reaction she had anticipated and for the control that she felt over him- though more specifically over his movement- for the very first time while in his presence. In one swift motion, she thrusted forth the tip of her umbrella below the cover of her opposite arm and opened it.

Although she could not initially see beyond the limits of the parasol and therefore was unable to fully enjoy the fruits of her labor, Misaki was admittedly pleased to (once she had managed to turn completely to face his direction again) discover the effect her plot had cursed him with. He was a good five or so meters back from where she was positioned, and his left hand (which he had used in his purposely lazy attempt to strike) was bent considerably too far back over the top of his wrist. Blood pumped out of a generously sized tear in his flesh at the base, spitting out in noticeable spurts in tune to his heartbeat.

Despite his appearance of indifference, as though the break neither pained nor burdened him, Misaki enjoyed her small victory. Still, she decidedly could not let this advancement in their little arrangement distract her. There was far more at stake now, and even while his soulless eyes concealed this fact, his now slightly more ominous aura told her the truth. He comprehended the honesty of her spoken intentions at this moment; that she was willing to fight until the last breath, whether that be hers or his own. Perhaps both…

She had naturally assumed that the vigor in her actions had revealed this to him in spite of the fact that he had actually read it in her eyes. Her stare unveiled that of one who could no longer be broken, who was already broken, and thus did not give heed to matters such as mortality and emotional wealth. No, the only expression was that of loathing and the desire to destroy.

He had seen this in her before, if only just a glimmer here and there. It was back in those first encounters they had shared that this had been so obviously apparent, between her fear and curiosity over him. Yes, that was it… even the first night they had engaged sexually, it had been there- so raw, so clear… She wanted him… all of him. Misaki loved him so much, so painfully, that she hated him and wanted to kill him.

Even just during the length of this exchange thus far, something had changed. At first the girl lacked the strength or will to attack him with real killing intent. Now here she was, promising him with her glare that she would sacrifice everything just to end him.

With a sequence of lazy snapping sounds, Illumi realigned his wrist and hand. Misaki could have stopped his strike without opening her parasol, but he knew that she had premeditated the damage she had caused. It was a final indication that the real battle only just starting.

Admittedly he was intrigued by this prospect, enough so that he forgot himself; forgot his carefully plotted strategy...

…But he didn't forget his trump card, and now was perhaps the ideal time to play it.

"I have a supposition to run by you." A small, knowing smile touched his lips as he shifted openly out of his defensive stance in order to approach her. He lifted his palms to show that they were indeed free of weapons as he added (impassively but confidently), "Feel free to come kill me if I happen to be wrong at any time…"