[ Not a weapon at all, but magic. That inherent, consuming thing Mikazuki has only started to grasp the concept of for all his time on this planet — something he can now understand better in a fight. It comes in the punishing form of winds, sharp with the smell of ozone. As Atsushi takes the position in front of him, Mikazuki braces his grip on him from behind as the full brunt of the spell hits them like a battering ram. He grunts with the force of it, heels skidding back. Stubbornly, he anchors his weight in his legs to keep the both of them upright, violent licks and whips of the spell cutting past them like knives.
Releasing a breath as it subsides, he hones his gaze over Atsushi's shoulder to see the wild-eyed look of the foremost fugitive as he looks between them and the wanted posters. That's apparently all he needs to see them as threats, pursuers. Another spell roils around his wrists as he cracks an untamed grin, wild with both power and fear: Good likeness on those pieces of shit, huh? Out of the way, brats! Today isn't the day I'm going to Simwe's dog!
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Releasing a breath as it subsides, he hones his gaze over Atsushi's shoulder to see the wild-eyed look of the foremost fugitive as he looks between them and the wanted posters. That's apparently all he needs to see them as threats, pursuers. Another spell roils around his wrists as he cracks an untamed grin, wild with both power and fear: Good likeness on those pieces of shit, huh? Out of the way, brats! Today isn't the day I'm going to Simwe's dog!
Frowning, Mikazuki pushes on Atsushi's back. ]
Another hit like that will come...