My Instincts Never Lie || Demon Slayer Nezuko

7. A Kicking Match

Back and forth breath forms and handballs painted the courtyard in fierce competition. Who would tire out first? They flipped and dodged, each trying to find an opening in the other. Nezuko groaned, having been hit again. Susamaru cackled, regenerating her arms quickly. "Looks like you missed my head!" she proclaimed before a kick square at the cheek was squeezed in.

"Brat! I let you have that." Susamaru grinned as Nezuko slid back a few metres.

The moment each of her opponent's six hands conjured a ball to dribble, Nezuko's view clouded with dust. The fine particles clogged her breaths and stung her eyes—making her pant harder than usual—something strangely familiar. She could essentially breathe the dry air of Mount Sagiri in the summer, near the summit.

A handball zipped past her hair, snipping off a few strands. One after the other they pelted at her until she was just lucky enough to guess where the next one would come from. The haze made it difficult to clear her senses—dirt sticking to her skin slicked with sweat—she'd lost almost complete focus on her senses. No time to pause and plan but she was getting nowhere. This was Susamaru's control. If things went the way they were any longer, Nezuko would die.

"You can't hide behind the dust forever!" she yelled.

"Same goes for you."

Smoke puffed behind her and a handball came dangerously close to decapitating her. Nezuko pivoted with an awkward jerk of her neck.

'Dammit, I have to clear the dust somehow,' she thought. Her hands started shaking around the hilt of her sword, fighting through it to re-angle the blade to Second Form. The 2 halves of the temari fell to the ground, disappearing into ash as Nezuko spotted her enemy directly in her way. 'I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.'

"There you are."

An attack over her head made her crouch on her knees. They wobbled the slightest bit at the prospect of collapsing on her back. Two or three more temari swooshed beside her cheeks and hair stuck to her face--it's length was becoming a nuisance. The second she took to push her hair out of her eyes, the quick switch to a defensive Eighth Form had vibrations rippling through her bones. Nezuko held out long enough to counteract the temari's force, but by its dissipation, her nichirin blade clattered to the ground.

Susamaru smirked. Another fit laughter bellowed from the demon's stomach. "This is fun ain't it? Did you really think a pathetic demon slayer like you could defeat a Kizuki?" Susamaru dribbled a temari as if to taunt her with suspense.

Nezuko coughed. Her knees gave in and slumped. Pain was etched across the scrunch of her features--head hung low and jaw tensed. She reached her hand out but found she could no longer physically grip her sword for fear they'd ache too much to endure. Amongst five other demons, Nezuko was the minority; panting, sweating, getting drained of energy, along with other "degenerate" features of the human body. It added an ounce in her already simmering frustration at a complete disadvantage. The moment she gave up, would be her last.

Nezuko hadn't yet.

"Idiot, pathetic girl. I'm surprised you aren't dead yet."

She glared up from under the shadow of the unfastened hair from her pink bow. Her breathing became deep enough to get her on her feet, fingers flexed then relaxed. "Ugh, bring it on!" she growled through her teeth.

"Let's finish this!"

The temari shot like a bullet close to the ground. Susamaru's arm made an audible swish as she threw it. There wasn't time for her to think, it bowled in closer by the millisecond. Nezuko stepped forward, reeling her leg back. It swung down to battle the ball, hitting it with a bam. Lady Tamayo shrieked for her too late--her legs were absolutely no match for Susamaru.