Torako simply nodded to Kyang when she spoke. It was a logical course of action in this fight. Xi was in danger of being swiftly overwhelmed, even if he was holding his own. The pale-haired girl dropped low to the ground, her body jostling from the sudden motions, one hand remaining firmly on the hilt of her katana. Taketori was always reliable, no matter what happened. She put on an immediate burst of speed, her sandals near silent as she padded rapidly through the grass, from the side, towards one of the men assaulting Xi.

No hesitation filled her mind. Not even the slightest. Her face was stony and cold, one of grim focus. She was doing, after all, something that now came naturally to her. All those years of spilling blood had made her all too prepared to do it again and again and again. Even if she now only slew those who were a threat to herself or others who were not counted among her enemies... quite simply, it didn't matter. They were a threat. So, if she could, she would kill them.

And so, the moment Torako came in range, her blade flashed out again, so smooth and fast that it was barely visible to the naked eye, in an arc designed to sever limbs, or a head, or even cut apart the entire body in an instant.