The instant he sensed the attack coming, Haruto bent at the waist and pulled back. The searing rush of a fist grazed past his brow, and Akaza's attack missed.
As soon as he left the demon's reach, Haruto planted his Nichirin Blade's sheath against the ground to halt his retreat, then pushed off with his toes and lunged forward with a vicious slash.
Whoosh!
The late-autumn night wind carried a touch of winter's bite. Amid the thin mist, Haruto felt his blade's tip strike something exceptionally hard, followed by the faint, laborious sensation of cutting into flesh.
This was bad!
This Upper Rank's body was far tougher than he had imagined!
He focused his gaze. His blade had only sunk shallowly between Akaza's fingers. Those dark-blue demon hands, tipped with pink nails, were incomparably resilient!
"Hah!" Akaza seemed to feel no pain. He clamped his fingers around Haruto's blade, then clenched his other hand and drove a punch toward the swordsman's chest!
He had to retreat! That punch could kill him!
But Akaza held his blade fast, and he couldn't pull it free. Without a blade, he would still have no way to fight!
He would either be killed by Akaza or forced to flee in disgrace!
Calm down, calm down. Think!
All those thoughts flashed through Haruto's mind in an instant, and then he forced himself to settle down quickly.
Borrowing a move from Thunder Breathing, he concentrated his power in his feet and stamped hard against the ground.
As his sole went numb, he twisted the sword's hilt and flipped through the air, landing behind Akaza and kicking hard into his back.
Creak, creak...
A series of disjointed cracks came from the bones of the demon hand gripping the blade, and Akaza's arm twisted into a corkscrew.
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