This was her time. This was the opening she needed to strike... Nyoko was a subtle warrior, preferring the moment of surprise to attacking head-on. And now, the Black Samurai's back was completely open for her to strike, with nothing to hold back and buy the revenge Haruki put his life on the line for. Silently, like a cat, she stepped forth, and skewed the blade of her katana between the plates of his armor.<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>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.