Before Ishiki could form another coherent thought, a barrage of arrows fell from the skies.
They appeared as nothing more than indifferent shadows against the dark sky—thin lines cutting through the night. If not for the moon's pale glow catching their tips, Ishiki wouldn't have spotted them at all.
More than half sailed overhead, arcing toward the castle's upper battlements where they'd been aimed. But some fell short, whistling down directly at them
'*Shit...*' Panic seized Ishiki's heart. But before the arrows could touch them, they were deflected.
The shinobi used the blunt edge of his tachi with surgical precision, not a second's hesitation, not a wasted movement. Each arrow that came close simply... changed direction, clattering harmlessly against stone.
Ishiki was awe struck, for a second until the shinobi's warning pulled him out of his trance.
"Get ready."
