[Matoba's implied enough. Kamui, finally pulling the cheap secondhand pistol from the inside of his coat, nods.]
I can. On a good day, I'd have felt it before it struck.
[There's a twinge of pain behind his left eye as, instinctively, he tries to piece together his senses for the shadowy creature, but with his powers so dampened, it fails. And then everything is happening very quickly: the kawatengu vomiting up that strange, viscous blackness, Matoba suddenly slamming into him. Kamui grunts, stumbling as he's shoved aside; he recovers his footing quickly, though, looking between Matoba and the undulating shape in confusion.]
What does it want?
[Carefully, he lines the creature up in his gun's crosshairs...]
no subject
I can. On a good day, I'd have felt it before it struck.
[There's a twinge of pain behind his left eye as, instinctively, he tries to piece together his senses for the shadowy creature, but with his powers so dampened, it fails. And then everything is happening very quickly: the kawatengu vomiting up that strange, viscous blackness, Matoba suddenly slamming into him. Kamui grunts, stumbling as he's shoved aside; he recovers his footing quickly, though, looking between Matoba and the undulating shape in confusion.]
What does it want?
[Carefully, he lines the creature up in his gun's crosshairs...]