The word sat in the channel.
Ishiki's back was against the cracked concrete, Sorrow's Edge still in his right hand, the purple flames burning quietly in the dark.
He looked up at Kenji and said nothing, because there was nothing to say to that particular word from that particular person that was also useful right now.
Then the shot rang out.
It wasn't one shot, but three rapid and precise shots aimed to hit the target. The muzzle flash lit the channel white for a fraction of a second, and Kenji moved.
Shiro was almost eight meters back with his gun up, feet planted in the wide stance without hesitation.
The three rounds had caught Kenji in the shoulder and the side — not penetrating his tough body, but the impact had been enough to redirect him off Ishiki and that was the point.
His skill was not something he could use for direct combat, and from what he had witnessed so far... he did not stand a chance against that monster.
Kenji looked at Shiro.
