At first, Senbonzakura didn't bother looking at the dog - creatures of that sort would normally be beyond the notice of a noble. Yet, when so many approached him about it... He did indeed realize it was wrong. He was losing control over his powers once more. It wasn't unusual, yet it always pained him to see how much damage they could just do when not wielded correctly. He wished to take no lives, yet-<br/>A gust of wind, cold as ice, picked up about him. His eyes gleamed colder still as that man, a mere stranger in a straw hat, placed a sword by his neck. Such courage... It disgusted him. He looked down at the man, and the threats did not make him flinch, even; he knew too much of men that would threaten others with the might of their friends and allies. And what would become of those when their allies and friends would perish? Nothing but a craven pile of threats and boasts of another's feathers.<br/><br/>"I shall dig no grave. I am Sen Masayuki of the Ariwa house, not a peasant to dig a grave." he responded coldly, giving the man a gaze that could shred a man to little more than morsels (if gazes could only do as much). He spun on his heel, and made his way away, towards that dog that he had by mishap slain. The flow of life was still fresh in it, not too far gone... Yet, to replenish a life was not like to strengthen it, and a dog was no small creature.<br/>He'd try anyway.<br/>Bending over and squatting onto the ground, he lowered a hand onto the dog's ribcage; his pale skin brushed against the animal's hide softly. Yes, the flow of life could still be felt, rather distant and diminishing by every moment, but not gone. It shouldn't be too hard to connect another to it... And pass a part of his own life-force into it... It was a river, a river that flows without stopping, washing its shores and changing them; yet, it was also a sea, whirling and beating the cliffs with its waves.<br/>He could feel the flow of the river within himself. It changed its current, and it was leaving him, slowly, to connect with a river-bed dry already... Fill it with water singing and fresh...<br/><br/>Yet, he passed on more life force than what he anticipated. Hard-pressed by attempting to revive the animal, his own strength was drained. Darkness and cold suddenly gripped him in its iron hands, and held him hard... His senses began to dull, the scene before his eyes growing dark and sound being drowned out. Before he could do anything else, he collapsed onto the ground, losing his conscience and stretching across the dust as he lay on his side.<br/><br/>----<br/><br/>"The little brat playing adult here is you. I'm twenty-four." Hirohisa growled back, sneering at Raiden's lame attempt to flirt with the tall woman. He waited - not patiently, but he waited - while this child made his dealings with all the people around, hands crossed on his chest, hidden underneath layers of black garments. He didn't strike while his enemy was distracted... At least, not with people around himself. That was not what his sensei had taught him to do...<br/><br/>"They do want a show. However, I don't give a flying f**k about what they want." he replied to Raiden's inquiry then, and laxly placed a hand onto the tsuka of Uchikudaku, and slowly drew the blade from its sheath. He would not draw Tsukinuku unless the need would arise... What he truly doubted. "They may not get one, if you're as bad a fighter as you're with women. I am Tatsuya Hijō ni Surudoi Hirohisa, the Razor-sharp, the Blade Demon, and I have faced Tamashii no Mori, of which you speak, twice in my life," he introduced himself coldly, taking a proud stance, a cold glimmer in his eyes. He wouldn't care for whether this child thought that he can defeat him. He was not defeated by one of a rank below himself, and he wasn't planning on making that a habit, either.<br/>"If you do indeed think that you can defeat me, I dare you to prove it, because you do not seem to be capable of<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>, Raiden Hokkaido."<br/><br/>He remembered all that he was ever taught of swordplay, and the blade in his hand gleamed dark and menacing, a fang of steel made for the glory of destruction, as his hand tightened around its hilt; yet, he still held it lightly, with as much elegance as what seemed almost... Unfitting.