Saturday doesn't have a lot of respect for dual wielders in the normal scheme of things. Sure, it looks fancy and it's pretty effective if you're good at it, but most people don't have the time or the talent to get that good. Usually, dual wielding means you're facing an idiot, amateur, or both.

Usually. Usually doesn't account for fucky noh-faced psycho bitches who won't stop laughing.

Saturday has to hope that Stacia has her back, because the creepy doll lady's blade are flashing almost faster than Saturday can see. And she's got a real bad feeling that the woman is holding back - for what purpose, Saturday can't imagine. Other than the sheer glee of it -

Saturday's shoulders are aching. Her rhythm falters. The woman slides her pommel in and flips Elder Brother right out of Saturday's hands. She watches in a kind of slow, detached horror as it flies through the air and lands point down in the earth, twanging like a plucked string.

Saturday hasn't been disarmed since she was 12 years old.

The woman takes up a formal, inviting stance. Her black-pit eyes slit and angle as if she's smiling. Laughing. Mocking Saturday.

Well, all right then. Fuck smart. And fuck safe.

Saturday throws herself at the woman, screaming wildly, and headbutts her.