Kousyxe was right--his knives easily responded to his call, pulled back to his hands in the blink of an eye. They kicked up far less sand, too; infuriating as the little things were, and as many times as they darted away only seconds before impact, it wasn't a bad method at all.

Soon enough, Kousyxe had managed to skewer both of them, leaving him with a pair of knives dripping with muddy water and Demyx's song drawing to a close. He whistled encouragingly, planting Arpeggio in the sand again and leaning on it. "Nice work! What've we learned so far, huh?" After all, he's no fan of fighting, himself--if he's going to subject his student to it, it'd damn well better have a purpose.