Seizing that brief opening, Sandai Kitetsu's wielder spun, his blade sweeping toward his opponent's sword wrist.
The Black Blade's owner released his grip and withdrew.
The instant the hilt left his hand, he kicked the guard.
The Black Blade, "Yoru,"
spun into the air, traced an arc, then fell back into his left hand.
With the sword in his left hand, his slash followed a trajectory completely opposite to that of his right.
Sandai Kitetsu blocked again.
But this time, the force came from an entirely different direction.
The vibrations traveling through the blade numbed the web of his hand, and Sandai Kitetsu nearly slipped from his grasp.
The Black Blade's wielder pressed his advantage, his blade raining down in a torrential assault, every strike aimed at a different angle.
Block.
Retreat.
Block again.
Sandai Kitetsu's wielder was driven back step by step until his boot heel struck the rock wall.
There was nowhere left to retreat.
The Black Blade slashed again. He twisted aside, and the edge grazed his ear before cutting into the stone wall, spraying fragments across his cheek.
Warmth.
It was blood.
A thin cut had opened along his ear, and beads of blood slid down the side of his neck.
Ignoring the wound, he swept Sandai Kitetsu upward in a counterattack.
The Black Blade returned to defend, and the two swords locked together for the third time.
This time, Sandai Kitetsu was on top.
Its wielder gripped the hilt with both hands, driving his entire body's strength into the blade.
The Black Blade, "Yoru,"
sank slightly, its wielder's arm muscles tensing to their limit.
Sweat soaked their clothes, spreading dark patches across the fabric.
A sudden cracking came from the rock wall.
It was not caused by the blades; the cracks accumulated earlier had finally