Before anybody came to face Tomaru, the world faded into black once again. Perhaps that last stage was just a brief pit stop before entering the true arena. Still, Tomaru let the darkness wash over him, his stance never faltering, and waited for the new area to come to light... but it never did. A part of him found this place quite fitting; massive statues wielding swords, an unrelenting darkness that only seemed to be growing deeper and colder. "Perfect," The Red Shinigami whispered. There would be nothing here to remind him of his other self, nothing to spark any inkling of mercy or compassion. No, all this place invoked was the thrill of the fight. The demon that stood across from Tomaru, wretched as he was, would be able to feel the killing intent permeating from The Red Shinigami if he had even the remotest awareness of his surroundings. This was when animals usually fled, birds stopped chirping, and his prey would be petrified with fear by the nearly tangible murderous aura he emitted. But, unlike the demon, Tomaru didn't play with his food. 

And so, Tomaru took a moment to size up his opponent. It was clearly an abysmal being, what with that giant skull club and the two talking heads on his belt. The smell of blood was even more potent on this creature than it was on himself; that combined with the creature's inexplicably jovial demeanor led Tomaru to believe that this was your typical homicidal sociopath... probably demonic. But, this creature appeared to be on the small side, even taking into account the supernatural strength that would be required to wield that club, so Tomaru figured he could expect lots of speed or lots of magic. 

All this processed through Tomaru's mind within the first seconds upon arrival, and yet his Tsubame stance was sill as unflinching as the statues that surrounded them; not a single physical cue gave any clue as to what was going on inside the kitsune's head. So, he waited for his opponent to begin.