The white haired man watched the scene play out, amusement in his eyes as he saw the distress of the Marines. There was only another girl there in the tavern. Mitsuki recognized the Devil's power when he saw it. He hadn't lifted a finger, so it had to be her.

At the demand, Mitsuki snorted. "I believe you did it to yourself, you oaf," he commented drily. "Try to have some class."

"What was that?" The Marine's face was bright red, now from anger rather than exertion. He stomped towards where the man was sipping his drink, reaching out for his collar.

"I wouldn't do that." The man's eyes flashed momentarily, barely susceptible to the onlookers. The Marine hesitated, though, staggering a moment as though he had been hit. His eyes narrowed and he lashed out anyway, reaching for his collar again.

In a quick movement, his sword came up, the sheathed blade arcing up to strike the Marine's chin. His face jerked up and Mitsuki planted his foot in the man's stomach. The force sent his chair back even as the Marine staggered away.

"I suggest you stand down while you only have a few bruises and wounded pride." The swordsman was now standing, clutching his still sheathed blade in his hand, but not intending to back down.