“you.” he wields his aggression like a double-edged sword that is one hair's breath away from being unsheathed. the threat of a cut oozes from solitary syllable that is almost accusatory in nature. he’s never been much of a talker—and he speaks even less when his face is covered up for good. a white mask decrees silence. secrecy. even so, there are many things he’d like to ask. why are you here? are you out of your mind? alas, the remnants of his nerves that have survived this blood-laden night are far too brittle to be dealing with this guy … and it’s doubtful he’d be offered any answers to his liking. “get out.”
Crouching on the edge of the roof, he studies the other's silhouette with bated breath. The hazy dusk sky could almost lull him to believe that this was nothing more than their usual encounters. But drifting in with the wind is the stale stench of iron and burnt flesh.
At first, he recoils, shrivelling under the weight of the single word, feeling as if he'd been called out on trial. "You", as if they were strangers—the pronoun draws a firm line between them, though it seems that's nothing he's not used to nowadays.
The subsequent pause speaks volumes more, and determination sparks anew. The command does little to faze that. He's never been one to kneel and obey.
He rises, till they're eye to eye. Takes a defiant step forward. "No," Gai says, a salient stubbornness in his voice. "I tracked you here, rival. To back you up!"
