The air whistles in front of Hizashi and he barely manages to dodge. The dagger previously aimed towards his head lodges in the wall behind him.

Hizashi pulls out his own dagger, eyes darting to where the weapon was thrown from. — He had been resting in his apocalyptic hideout (an abandoned building) when he felt on edge. Then a knife was thrown. He hasn’t seen another person in a good year.

“Show yourself!” He hisses out, putting up a good defensive stance.