<span style="font-family: Old English Text;">Her wide grey eyes were like mirrors, reflecting everything - the sword's tip, pointing from the plates of black armor, dripping with blood like rivers. Every drop was somehow rid of color before it would crash against the ground, and there, like a lake of crystal, feeding the roots of a flower, the sprouts of which quickly grew around the bodies of Blake and Haruki, entwining around their limbs like a net, before they bloomed, black and scarlet, and stronger than she ever saw them before.<br/><br/>Akaihana, the sword that fed on the blood of the enemy. Unlike Haruki, who was relying on his strength and mastering the physical side of combat, Nyoko went forth to use what she has been given - the sword of her father, one of the few things that were left to her after her parents.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"Drink his blood for the wounds he has given to those that I care for. Feast on him, Akaihana."</span><br/><br/>Blake's eyes widened, looking down at the lucid lake, void of all color... Nurturing the roots sprouting about Blake and Haruki, entwining their limbs like the web of a spider lying in wait... For its prey to fall unto its trap. Within seconds, the flowers bloomed vividly, black and crimson. Was this perhaps Nyoko's doing? Blake was not ready to doubt it, as it he thought it "her" doing...<br/><br/>The Black Samurai, on the other hand... Trapped in the roots' snares and binds. His arms and legs bound by chains of flora. "Impressive." The smirk of a monster creaked along his murky face... The roots began to wither and pass on. The monster, freed from its chains. "You know... I've had some fun with you all... But let's face the facts... If you brother, heart set on revenge, couldn't even land a scratch on me... What makes you think that you can, beautiful?" He asked, relaxing his sword arm as he drew near to Nyoko. "Why not take your brother, your friend and beat it?"</span>