[center][color=#000000][u][h3][b]Zume Tatasuko[/b][/h3][/u][/color][/center]

Confidence, not arrogance, of this it was certain. However, there remained no barriers, no inhibitions, no care. He could not die. Not because his body was immortal, but because his soul was. Dying here against a worthy opponent, if the man indeed was, would not bother him in the least, but not continuing with victory in sight would indeed bother him, for the next time he returned, this man would be past the peak of his skill, whereas he would only surmount the one he now knew once more. No, backing down was entirely pointless, there was no need and no purpose in the action.

With the fading of Kojiro's weapon, Zume knew that there was far more to his actions. As if each thing had been done with meticulous precision. He felt as if surrounded on all four sides. Four sides, four tools, now three. Precise movements, positioning. A warning to him from his enemy.

Whatever this man had planned, or set up, which he was beginning to sense on multiple levels as he considered it, it was big and it was meant to finish him. Very well, if that was the case, then there would was no time for quarter. Four unseen handseals, [i]Hipparu no mukō kara(引っ張るの向こうから 'to draw from beyond'),[/i] the mist spread, and then dispersed, disappearing into his surroundings rapidly, spread even more effectively by the wind around him. [i]Seijou no nentou karada(Purity of the Mind and Body)[/i], now utilized on the very particles of mist he had spread abroad in his surroundings. Sixteen handseals, [i]Tamashī no yōki – Hankō-ko o chūshō-ka shita mono(魂の容器 – 反抗子を抽象化したもの 'Soulless vessel – Abstraction of the defiant child'),[/i] it formed beside him, then vanished into one of the invisible movement patterns, which immediately relocated itself far from his current location, half a mile in distance to be exact.

[color=#000000][b]"Drifting throughout, space and time dare not grace thy silver flesh. I implore, may I receive thy guidance, Ōku no iroai ni musuko."[/b][/color] The blade, once whole, became scattered. All, but two of its many movement patterns, the chakra that made up the blade's physical manifestation, split from its form. The circular formations that had attacked Kojiro faded and returned to Zume in an instant, vanishing. 221 patterns of chakra in total, 1 that had been sent away, 2 that retained the blade's shape, leaving 218 patterns for him to utilize.

With that the torrent of wind ceased, dying instantly as his barrier demanifested its physical shape, revealing the last pure Tatasuko in all his empty majesty. [color=#000000][b]"Then come, land a blow, I dare you,"[/b][/color] there was no emotion, no expression upon his face or in his mind. He had spread his arms wide as if to make himself a target, before lowering them, the emptiness now spread throughout the area. [color=#000000][b]"Should you land it, you will not be the first to lay true a killing strike upon my form. As before, it will not be my end, come mortal, show me your worth,"[/b][/color] it was a lie. While Kojiro would not be the first to land a killing strike should he manage it, he would never be capable of such.

This was not his own arrogance, which dictated to him this answer. No, it was the mere fact that Kojiro had no way of detecting the single movement pattern that held within it, something precious. It was the fact that the sky itself had become his domain with the spread of his mist throughout. It was that he had pushed Zume all the way to his core, and brought such a terrible thing out to play in a world where emptiness was unwelcome...feared. No, his blow would not land.

With this thought in mind, he held a single handseal in his left hand, at his side, there was a flicker, and he began his wait. Whatever was coming, would hardly matter now.