Force Breathing

Kirigi's katana slashed through the air, its deadly arc gleaming in the moonlight. Tyr narrowly sidestepped the strike, the blade slicing so close to his armor that he felt the wind of its passage. Blood dripped from the numerous cuts across his body, soaking into the fabric beneath the armor, his breathing ragged as exhaustion clawed at his limbs.

I can't keep this up, he thought, parrying another of Kirigi's relentless attacks. His sword vibrated violently in his hands with the impact, the steel screaming against the assassin's katana.

Kirigi's speed was unrelenting, each strike coming faster and with more precision than the last. The assassin was a blur of lethal intent, his movements calculated to exhaust and overwhelm Tyr's defenses.

"Your limits are clear, Violet Wolf," Kirigi said, his tone calm yet dripping with superiority. "You fight valiantly, but you are no match for the Hand."

Tyr gritted his teeth, his mind racing. He needed a way out, a way to push past the overwhelming gap in strength and skill. His Force sense kept him alive, barely giving him the edge to dodge or deflect Kirigi's strikes, but it wasn't enough. He was running out of time.

As the next strike came, Tyr dodged, rolling to the side and creating a sliver of space between them. His mind raced, grasping for anything that could give him an advantage.

Think! There has to be something...

His thoughts flickered to Theon's memories. Among the countless fragments of knowledge from another world, one stood out. A series called Demon Slayer.

The breathing techniques!

The memory hit him like lightning. In the anime, warriors enhanced their physical abilities by mastering specialized breathing patterns that increased their oxygen intake, blood flow, and overall combat performance.

It's fiction, Tyr thought, deflecting another strike, his muscles screaming in protest. But so is the Force. If it works there, maybe it can work here.

Tyr steadied his stance, dodging a flurry of Kirigi's attacks as he focused on his breathing. Each inhale was deep and deliberate, filling his lungs completely, while each exhale came slow and controlled. He envisioned the Force not just as an external tool, but as a flow within him—a part of his blood, his muscles, his very cells.

The first few breaths were shaky, his battered body struggling to maintain the rhythm under the strain. Kirigi noticed the shift, his katana slashing toward Tyr's midsection with brutal efficiency. Tyr parried, barely managing to hold the blade at bay.

But as the breathing deepened, something changed.

The Force surged within him, flooding his body with a raw, electrifying energy. He felt his muscles tense, stronger than before, his blood pumping with newfound vigor. Every nerve in his body felt alive, his reflexes sharpening as if time had slowed.

It's working.

The next time Kirigi struck, Tyr didn't just block. He countered.

Steel met steel with a deafening clang as Tyr shoved Kirigi back, the assassin sliding a few feet before regaining his balance.

Kirigi's eyes narrowed, the faintest hint of surprise flickering across his usually stoic face. "What is this?"

Tyr didn't answer. He didn't need to. His breathing was steady now, each inhale fueling his movements, each exhale sharpening his focus.

The fight transformed.

Kirigi attacked with the same blinding speed, but now Tyr met him head-on, their blades clashing in a flurry of sparks. Tyr's strikes came faster and harder, each one forcing Kirigi to shift from offense to defense.

The Force coursed through Tyr's body, enhancing every movement. His muscles felt lighter, stronger. His strikes carried more weight, his reactions more precise.

Kirigi slashed downward, aiming for Tyr's shoulder. Tyr sidestepped effortlessly, spinning into a counterstrike that slashed across Kirigi's arm. The assassin hissed in pain, his grip on the katana faltering for a fraction of a second.

"You've improved," Kirigi said, his voice still calm but tinged with something new—respect.

Tyr smirked beneath his helmet, his voice steady despite the exertion. "And I'm not done yet."

The clash of blades rang out across the rooftop as the two warriors pushed each other to their limits. Kirigi's strikes became more aggressive, his precision unwavering, but Tyr was no longer on the defensive.

With each swing, Tyr pushed Kirigi back. He lunged, his sword slashing in a wide arc that Kirigi barely managed to parry. The force of the blow sent the assassin staggering, his composure slipping.

Kirigi attacked again, his katana slicing toward Tyr's throat. Tyr ducked, using the momentum to sweep his leg under Kirigi's feet. The assassin stumbled, and Tyr followed up with a powerful slash aimed at his chest.

Kirigi twisted at the last second, the blade grazing his ribs instead of cutting deep. He retaliated with a sharp thrust, but Tyr spun out of the way, his sword striking the katana with enough force to disarm Kirigi.

The katana clattered to the ground, and Kirigi froze, his chest heaving as he stared at Tyr.

"It seems," Kirigi said, his voice calm despite the blood dripping from his wounds, "I underestimated you."

Tyr stood tall, his sword pointed at Kirigi's chest. He was exhausted, his body trembling from the strain, but the Force still flowed within him, keeping him steady.

"素晴らしい戦いだった." (Subarashii tatakai datta—It was a great battle.)

Kirigi's eyes widened briefly, then softened. A faint smile touched his lips, his grip on his katana loosening.

"You honor me, Violet Wolf," he said quietly.

Tyr nodded, raising his sword for the final strike. "平和を見つけてください." (Heiwa o mitsukete kudasai—May you find peace.)

Tyr's blade moved swiftly, the strike clean and precise. Kirigi collapsed, his body still as silence fell over the rooftop.

Tyr staggered back, lowering his sword as the adrenaline began to fade. The Force still hummed within him, but it was quieter now, its job done.

He glanced around the rooftop, his gaze falling on Yellow, who was still grappling with the remaining assassins. He straightened, gripping his sword tightly.

"Hold on, bro" he muttered, stepping forward. "We're not done yet."