The movement preceded sound.
Mahito's new pupils contracted tightly at the blade that now flashed the length of rain and neon-lit gorge with excruciating precision. Mahito's new, borrowed body had gone into a mode of preemptive movement, muscles tightening against the feeling, the feeling feeling foreign to him. Turning aside at the last possible moment, the displaced air rippled across his skin as the steel whistled past a fraction of an inch from his neck, scattering the suspended raindrops.
For the first time in his short life, he felt an odd feeling course through every last one of nerves. His neurons firing chemical signals beyond comprehension. The newfound feeling of adrenaline flowing through Mahito's mind, enhancing his senses and pushing his mind into a mode of fight-or-flight.
Iori's eyes widened behind his scarred brow. The sword finished its course with a wet hiss through the rain, with droplets vaporizing where cursed energy collided with the falling water. "Quick little thing, aren't you?" he muttered as he adjusted his stance with ease born of practice. His breath came out in heated puffs of steam lodged in the cold air, shoulders squared for balance despite the slickness of the pavement.
Mahito's smile showed every tooth as he tasted rainwater and something coppery. His bare feet shifted unconsciously on the wet concrete, toes curling for purchase. "I'm full of surprises."
The sorcerer responded in the next blur of motion; he pivoted on his lead foot as the weight flowed seamlessly into the next attack. The katana awakened in his hands, describing a complex pattern through the air-low to Mahito's ribs then twisting midway through the motion into a slash diagonally across his shoulder.
The actual attack came just as Mahito was beginning to notice the feint. He flung himself back, but this strange form was too slow. The sword sliced through flesh with surgical accuracy. As his human-red, startlingly warm blood arced through the air in precise droplets that decorated the alley walls like abstract art, a scorching line of pain flashed across his collarbone. "First blood," Iori said, shifting into position. In the neon light, his sword shone red. Mahito's fingers were shaking as he touched the wound. The electric pain sent pulsating waves through his nervous system. Fascinated, he watched as blood dripped down his chest and mixed with the raindrops as it welled between his fingers.
The wound ought to have healed right away. Rather, his regeneration was thwarted by the edges, which pulsed with remaining cursed energy.
Mahito's mind thought at a million miles a minute trying to comprehend this new feeling, genuine pain and blood. All foreign concepts to the former curse. His brain running through hundreds of possible potential movements.
Iori did not give him a chance to think. His subsequent assault was a series of quick, mechanically precise slashes.
Mahito had to alter his weight when the first one went for his lead leg. His defenses were raised when the second came high. Mahito felt the blade brush against his thigh and just managed to twist away in time. He felt a searing pain as the katana's kiss split muscle and skin. His leg threatened to give way as he stumbled, snarling through his teeth.
Iori acknowledged, "You move well," as he circled like a shark. However, you have sloppy form. No instruction. Mahito barely used his forearm to parry the testing jab that his sword flashed out. Fresh blood ran down his wrist as the edge dug deep.
Mahito laughed hysterically, the sound pouring up from his chest. The pain was exhilarating, with each nerve ending singing with heightened sensitivity. He rolled his damaged shoulder, feeling the muscles complain, and watched fresh blood run down his arm in rivulets.
"You're enjoying this?" Iori inquired, his voice heavy with hatred as he resumed his stance.
"Enormously," Mahito conceded.
He flexed his fingers, observing the movement of tendons beneath blood-slick skin.
"Pain is such a... novel sensation."
The sorcerer's response struck like lightning: a perfect iaido draw cut that should have severed Mahito's wrist. At the last second, Mahito twisted his arm in an unnatural contortion, bones protesting as he escaped the worst of the blow. The blade remained engaged, cutting into muscle and scraping bone with a terrible grind.
Iori's lips curved in something other than a smile as he pressed his advantage. His footwork was flawless, with each stride designed to push Mahito backward against the alley wall. The katana transformed into a silver blur, with high, low thrusts and slashes flowing together in a deadly dance.
Mahito's back struck a brick with a startling jolt. He could feel the rough texture through his saturated clothing, as the chill seeped into his flesh. His breath came in jerky spurts, human lungs burning from the strain. Blood flowed freely from half a dozen cuts, forming abstract patterns on his arms and chest.
A familiar voice cut through the rain, lighthearted and amused:
"Now this looks interesting."
Both men turned.
At the alley's entrance, a student with hair of snow reclined against a solider brick wall, with one hand in his pocket, the other holding a stick of tokoyaki. His sunglasses dry, seemingly ignoring the rain surrounding them, but the grin beneath it was undeniable. Raindrops hung motionless in the air around him, caught in the eternal pause between events.
"Gojo," Iori admitted, but his sword did not descend. Even though it was frigide outside, a small bit of sweat shot sneakily down his temple. "This isn't your concern brat." Gojo Satoru pushed off the wall with his shoulder and moved with fluid ease.
"Oh, but it is."
He turned his head towards Mahito, almost playfully.
"That technique of his is quite interesting"
Mahito felt it then: the terrible weight of the Six Eyes on him. It was like being dissected alive, with each layer of flesh and cursed energy exposed. For the first time since awakening in this body, something icy slithered down his spine.
Iori strengthened his grasp on the sword.
"He's not natural."
"Neither am I,"
Gojo joyfully said, taking a step forward. The air surrounding him, bent significantly, with droplets seeminly suspended in motion, forming near-perfect spheres.
"But here we both are, playing at being students."
His grin deepened, taking on a predatory tone.
"Let's see what our new 'friend' can really do."
The entire planet could feel the significant shift in the balance of power, forever altering the course of this world.