[Another nod, and Mitsuru raises his staff slightly, chanting. His voice is thin, but the melody no less beautiful, and sure enough a thin blade of ice forms in the air, its coldness sapping the heat from around it as it sits aloft and ready. Its form is sleek and thin; enough to do the job of piercing without falling apart, but also with precision.
He holds the staff close for a moment longer, just long enough to whisper:]
Sorry.
[The spirits in the gemstones... He's not sure what will happen to them, once he's dead. They are, after all, pieces of a reflection of his heart. But after all their guidance, this, this is where the Journey ends.
And then, he lowers the staff enough to expose himself, trying to keep his eyes on Ichigo even when they're so inevitably drawn to the blades.
No. The heart. It needs to be the heart.
He takes a breath and drags his vision to Ichigo's chest.]
...Ready. Shall we count?
[A part of him recalls that not so long ago, he counted off similarly with Boa, although that was a match of beyblades and not one intended to leave them both dead.
Perhaps he'll see him again, after this. That's about the best he can really hope for now.]
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He holds the staff close for a moment longer, just long enough to whisper:]
Sorry.
[The spirits in the gemstones... He's not sure what will happen to them, once he's dead. They are, after all, pieces of a reflection of his heart. But after all their guidance, this, this is where the Journey ends.
And then, he lowers the staff enough to expose himself, trying to keep his eyes on Ichigo even when they're so inevitably drawn to the blades.
No. The heart. It needs to be the heart.
He takes a breath and drags his vision to
Ichigo's chest.]
...Ready. Shall we count?
[A part of him recalls that not so long ago, he counted off similarly with Boa, although that was a match of beyblades and not one intended to leave them both dead.
Perhaps he'll see him again, after this. That's about the best he can really hope for now.]