It wasn't because he wanted to close his eyes. The mist had gotten into them, stinging so badly he couldn't open them. He listened for Helian's footsteps. They were faint in the mist, but not silent. Chisen heard them to his front left, about five paces away.
He thrust his blade.
It pierced the mist and struck empty air.
Helian's footsteps suddenly sounded behind him to the right. Chisen turned and swept his blade upward. This time, it struck something-not Helian's body, but the Gray-White Blade. The blades collided with a dull clang. Chisen pressed forward along the direction of the impact, sliding his edge up the Gray-White Blade toward Helian's fingers.
Helian pulled his blade free and retreated.
The mist drew back with him a little, restoring visibility to about two meters in front of Chisen. He saw Helian standing two meters away, the Gray-White Blade held across his body. A few drops of blood clung to it-not Chisen's, but his own. Chisen's last strike had grazed the web between his right thumb and forefinger.
Helian looked down at the wound and licked it.
"I can see several people's influence in your swordsmanship. Konoha Style, Kirigakure Style, and something from your own Chisen family. Who taught you?"
"Lots of people," Chisen said. "Dead ones, living ones, people who owe me favors, people I owe favors to."
"You owe too many people," Helian said.
Chisen didn't deny it. He owed Asuma his life, and Kakashi his life. He owed Shikamaru for countless nights spent cleaning up his messes, and Shizune for countless nights he'd infuriated her. He also owed Kiba a meal, Akamaru a bone, and Huomen a lesson on using the Byakugan.
He owed all those people, so he couldn't die here.
Chisen stepped into the mist of his