Senhime gritted her teeth as the acid continued to eat into her. This was dangerous, if she waited too long before seeing to the wound it was very possible her sword-arm would be crippled for quite some time. Her ears perked up as Sho shifted and began moving. The shikigami she had left on the roof was more than adequate to give her the lay of the battlefield, it's sight becoming her own briefly. Sho was charging, his ghostly blade at the ready. She took a deep breath, and once Sho was close enough and swinging, burst into action.<br/><br/>First, Senhime went to her feet while stepping forward, barely stopping the blade with a barrier tag, but suffering a cslash wound on her hand as the blade barely pushed through. Once again, she needed to power through it. Her body was trained to always carry out the plan, even at bodily cost. Besides, that would only be helpful as she moved to the second step. Her other hand went to her back, reaching between the folds of her sash and pulling out a small scroll, unfurling it as she brought it forward. Her muscles cried out in pain as she exerted them despite the acid burns. Senhime spoke the activation word -<i>mu </i>- and the intricate black ink all over the parchment began to glow and melt, the scroll itself catching fire. The other hand twitched, and droplets of her own blood spilled onto the scroll, turning the flame into a bluish-white.<br/><br/>It was a spell of banishment, and one of the strongest spells she could cast. Not only did it require preparation to create the scroll, but it even used her own blood as a catalyst. It required focus to weave the magic into the appropriate shape, guided by the ink on the scroll. Any failure would mean an indiscriminate field of effect, causing the spell to rebound on even her. It wouldn't be enough to kill Sho, but even for someone as powerful as him, he'd be left paralyzed. If this somehow didn't work, chances are nothing short of an entire assassin squad with spirit-hallowed blades would.<br/><br/>The flames and light brightened, and at their peak, a strange shrieking filled their ears, as if the air around them was howling with no wind. Senhime knew it for what it was - the full expulsion of all spiritual energies, holy and evil, banished and torn apart indiscriminately. She focused the center of the spell on her opponent, but knew the power she now wielded was possibly beyond her control. The light grew to a blinding intensity, and the fire engulfed the entire rooftop. Then, the spell ended, and the night was silent.<br/><br/>It was too silent. Nothing seemed to move, the air itself felt dead. Moonlight took on a ghastly tone. Before her, Sho had fallen to the ground, obviously unconscious. She did not envy him - the experience was no doubt painful. Even she could feel a headache slowly throbbing it's way into her skull, and a strange deadness to the immediate surroundings told her any onmyodo cast would simply fizzle out. The rooftop was dead. There was no physical signs of what had happened, but even those not in tune with the spiritual realm would feel uneasy here. Her shikigami, delicate as it was, was now just a small pile of ash. All spiritual things lay dead or dormant. Except for one thing.<br/><br/>The blade lay on the roof tiles, and<i>Onikiri</i>seemed to still hold that same bloodthirsty malevolence that she had felt earlier. But whereas before it could be ignored and pushed into the background, in this spiritual void it felt like a towering beacon of power. She picked it up, and was almost overwhelmed. Just what was in this blade? She'd never felt anything like it before, a wailing torrent of violence and carnage. It was now Senhime saw with clarity the powers her liege kept at his side. But no, he must be in control - her lord had not changed from the man she knew, no signs of possession were apparent. Could he be so powerful? Even as she slid it into it's sheath, Senhime could feel a presence brush against her mind, one that felt alien and yet too familiar. It wanted to kill, to feast on the blood of the fallen. She felt her own mouth watering - for it was the same urge to kill that pushed her day after day, year after year, beaten and trained into her. To Sen, kin in slaughter was a close friend and a deadly foe.<br/><br/>Senhime slid the sheathed blade back into the folds of her sash. She'd need to apologize for the damage to the grip. Taking one more opportunity to check that her opponent was well and truly incapacitated, she put up a hand signal to notify the watching kamaitachi agents that the job was done.