whyyyy

Saburo whirled without pause and lunged, the tip of a newly drawn sword already stained blackly with whatever had replaced blood for Kururu and Pirarah. Dark specks slid along the blade as it rushed the air, flying back to catch on his jacket and face, where they would drip and sink in alongside larger splashes. However, for both the weapon and its past products, it was a swift journey, the tip lashed cleanly through the demon's stomach, emerging with a noise that could only be adequately described as a graceless squelch. His grip tightened, whitening his knuckles as rage's grip on him reddened his face.

“I wasn't exactly going to allow this to end. It would have been a little much, even for me.” He swept the edge out through the demon's side, drenching himself in sticky, grainy shadow that crawled on his skin, even dirtying his hat and subduing his hair's silver. He breathed heavily from exertion, but other than his flushed skin, now mostly blotted over anyway, that cold fog of anger did not show as anything more than a quiet threat at the back of his blue eyes. They remained clean and clear as if to spite everything else, or more precisely, the demon itself, and sheer adrenaline granted him a confident grin below them. “There's a limit to how much I'll deal with. How much I'll just sit back and take.”

“O-oh... I... knew th-that...” It choked, that smoggy substance spilling out over the edge of its mouth. It swallowed, its own anger and, more prominently, surprise stamped on its features in contrast to its claimed expectations. Smudges of darkness washed over the utter blankness of its own eyes; the bleeding had already stopped, but instead, its limbs were deflating as thick smoke drifted from its body.

“I'm glad you did. I really don't feel like exposition.” He raised the sword high again, allowing gravity to carry the edge to the demon's shoulder, beside its neck. “Ah, and to be honest, I really don't want you here anymore.” He closed his eyes calmly, and almost cut.

“...well, I'm just glad... that I don't go alone... dreadful thing, that would be... r-right...?” It said, smiling with vague amusement. “I s-suppose... I concede that... I underestimated how far your dregs would carry you. B-but I think... this is it. Good luck regenerating your organs!” It spat bluntly. A cackle rose briefly, twisting, jarring, stabbing at the surroundings with sound itself, and then Saburo did cut. It ended, along with everything else. He staggered around, releasing the sword, gratefully ridding himself of the weight, though now that he thought about it, the blood clung just as heavily, and with greater persistence. He sighed, but his exhaustion would not be carried away with a simple breath, and he made himself smile. If he didn't force recognition of the triumph here, he believed he would collapse inward, and it would be... unfortunate... to fail after all of this. He laughed shortly, and then there was nothing but a silence that held the remains of violence in its stormy core. He would just have to wait it out, he pondered serenely, and he carefully settled himself onto the ground, because first, he would have to wait and see just how bad "it" would become.