A clash of steel, the pants of exhausted breath, the smell of rotting corpses. Ryōshū stood across from herself, her clone. She had lost count of how many of her clones she had killed at this point, but she didn't care. No better canvas than yourself. The two Ryōshūs lunged at each other, their knives moving in a flurry faster than the eye could see.

The fight took 7 minutes, neither Ryōshū holding a distinct advantage over the other, none that could be perceived at the moment. That was until one clone made a misstep, her foot slipping on the pooled blood of another clone. This moment of fault was enough to determine the outcome.

In one swift strike, a singular clone remained standing, Clone #256, now made the real Ryōshū. She looks over the piles of her own bodies, a slight smirk appears on her face before the weight of exhaustion suddenly hits her, and she collapses to her knees. "Argh..." She mutters out. "I.F.H. (I'm finished here.)"

Ryōshū reaches into the pouch on her thigh, searching around in it, but finding it empty of her cigarettes. She lets out a groan as she watches the door to the Hatchery she was in open. "T.Y.D.T. (Took your damn time.)" Ryōshū says as she slowly stands. She watches as the one person she considers tolerable approach her, you, with a smile. "There you are. You got my refill?" Ryōshū asks while gesturing to the empty pouch on her thigh. "Burned through my supply during training."