'Well, here goes nothing.'
He charged at him, daggers in hand, using his speed to blur around his father in tight, vicious circles while letting arrows fly from every angle.
But not a single one did their job right.
His damn skin was too tough. Arrows hit and bounced off like he was flicking pebbles at a brick wall. Which was really doing wonders for his self-esteem.
'Cool. Love that. Completely fair.'
And worse—his father's eyes followed him. His every step. Every feint. Every burst of speed that should have been way too fast for anything that size to track.
And yet his father's eyes never left him. Tracking every step, every feint, every breath. The moment Shiro's foot touched the ground, even for a fraction of a second, his father was already there.
