It was just a single drop. He was looking up at the clouds forming overhead. A drop of rain had spilled from the sky onto the shades of his sunglasses. By this time, you could barely see the clouds. The only way they became visible was if they passed under the moon. Japan's lights gave no visibility to the stars in the sky. After that single drop, the clouds began to cry furiously. The male looked ahead to the deserted road and pulled out a small music player from his pocket. He put the earphones in his head and began to walk.
He was listening to Dream Theater. Not your obvious choice, but a good one nonetheless. When it's raining, you can't hear the sounds of music playing at parties in condos. You don't pay attention to screams of terror or violence. In his case especially, you don't pay any attention to the sound of a gun being cocked and the trigger being pulled. A bullet rushed across his face from his left at an intensely high speed. He kept walking, not even looking over to see who held the metal tool of destruction. The gun cocked once more and fired a second time. The bullet hit the male's left hand and bounced off to the ground. It was now flat and crumbled up.
The male had then stopped where he was looking down at what hit him. His hand had not even had a dent in it so to speak. He held his left hand up looking at the back of it. The glove he was wearing now had a bullet-sized tear along the center. His shaded eyes geared toward the smoking gun over in the short distance. You could hardly see the shooter's face, but it was visible enough to see the baffled look upon his complexion. He stood up, cocked the gun and shot one more directly at the other male's head. He did not move at all.
The shadowed male had shot three bullets from the gun. Every single one of them nailed the receiver dead center where it was aimed. He was knocked back by the sheer power of the bullets, but did not fall down. Instead, he grabbed his head with his right hand and wiped some of the blood off, even though the rain was doing that for him. The shooter looked to the ground and found the three bullets scattered about around the receiver's feet crumpled up just like the second bullet. He then looked up at the male in front of him. His forehead was smeared in blood, but it was obvious that they're were no bullet holes. The shooter's face immediately turned to terror.
"W-who are you?!" he finally said. The male in front of him did not speak and had no expression on his face. His lips did not smile and yet they did not frown. This particular male reached into the left side of his jacket and before you could think to move, the shooter's head was on the ground rather than on his shoulders. The head's eyes were wide open as well as his mouth. The male didn't bother to let the rain wash off the blood on the sword before he sheathed it. Without even taking a second glance at the decapitated male, he walked off.
Looking back to the other male, a gaseous-like smog arose from his body. Within seconds, the smog became physical and resembled a demon. It was a demon. With sharp fangs and claws, it dragged it's feet towards the male's direction. It had the male in it's site even ready to attack from this distance. There was something odd about the male though. He started to flicker in the demon's vision and then disappeared in the blink of an eye. The demon did not even have time to growl as it was sliced in half vertically down it's entire body.
He heard footsteps behind him and with the sword still in his hand, he was ready to strike. He didn't even need to see their face.
