"..."

Torako's katana slid back into its sheath. Fine. Xin could fight them by himself, if that was how they wanted it. Her now-steely gaze laid squarely upon them, as she stood at the base of the tree she had cut apart. Her hand rested on Taketori's hilt, as blood dribbled down the fabric of her kimono, or trickled down one pale cheek. She simply stood and watched. And waited. After all, a former assassin was not one trained with so much stock in honorable combat. Oh, of course, Torako did not utterly ignore it, but if an ally was in danger of death...

She would intervene.